


The Portal Bride

by FuchsiaMae



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, On Hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3517544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuchsiaMae/pseuds/FuchsiaMae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Classic Tale of True Love, High Adventure, and Science<br/>(A Princess Bride AU)<br/>Aperture Science is in deep trouble, and only one man can save it -- Cave Johnson, CEO. Can he survive a bumbling band of android kidnappers, a cavern full of acid swamps and bottomless pits, escaped lab creatures of unusual size, and the machinations of the mysterious Administrator? Maybe, but not without a little help...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A long time ago, in a land once known as Michigan, there was a wonderful place called Aperture Science Innovators. From the outside, it didn’t look like much—a parking lot in the middle of nowhere, and a small, one-story concrete building, that was all. But at Aperture, looks were deceiving.

Beneath the surface, an old salt mine had been converted into the greatest research facility ever to exist. It spread out for miles deep into the ground, like a huge, hollow iceberg, or maybe a giant subterranean beehive, honeycombed with offices and laboratories. Inside, bustling employees worked tirelessly—lab technicians running tests, accountants running numbers, gofers running errands—all in the pursuit of science. Like a hive, the place hummed with energy.

One man’s vision brought it all together—and what a man he was. When he started building the facility, the papers called him a Science Maverick. Businessman, innovator, visionary genius. A legend in his own time. That was Cave Johnson.

He was the kind of man who could do the impossible, simply because he refused to believe anyone who told him it was impossible. His gleaming smile could dazzle the darkest eye, and his silver tongue could sell anything to anybody. He could’ve been the world’s greatest used car salesman—but he had higher goals than that. Starting with a one-man business selling shower curtains door-to-door, he built the company up himself, and in less than ten years Aperture Science Innovators was the biggest and best applied sciences company the world had ever seen. (Well, second-best, behind their biggest competitor, Black Mesa, but they’d beat the bastards someday.)

It felt to Cave Johnson like his own private kingdom. He loved to walk the vast halls of the facility, surveying his domain and scaring any employees he caught slacking off, with his attentive secretary trotting at his heels. He _loved_ to torment his secretary. He could tell her to do absolutely anything, no matter how tedious or arbitrary, and she’d do it without question. It became a sort of game he played—what stupid, pointless, arduous task would finally make her snap?

But she never snapped. Not one word of complaint passed her lips. She had to be the most obedient kid he’d ever met. Actually she was more a young woman now, but she’d been a kid of eighteen or so when he first hired her, and that was what he called her still.

“Kiddo!”

“Yes sir, Mr. Johnson?”

“Kiddo, I want this week’s lab reports on my desk on the double. And get me a cuppa coffee.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.”

That was all she ever answered. “Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.” File that, kiddo. “Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.” Type this, kiddo. “Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.” She was the first one in the building and the last one out every day, apart from himself. She didn’t have any family, or any friends either as far as he could tell. She lived only for her job.

He sometimes considered giving her a raise, but never for very long. Not after the way she’d reacted to her first and only vacation. (She’d reappeared at work after only a day away, looking sick as a dog and utterly miserable, but perked up immediately when he told her to shine his shoes.) He figured she was stupid, or maybe crazy, or probably both—but whatever she was, it made her damn useful. He took little notice of her beyond that. She did her mundane secretary things, and he did science.

And Cave Johnson was damn good at science. Aperture had become the cutting edge of innovation, the envy of every business mogul in the country, and Cave Johnson made it happen. Every scientist wanted to work for him. Every schoolkid wanted to see inside the facility walls. Every day, news of some new invention or discovery would come up from the labs—and as soon as it happened, Cave would find a way to market it. He was the man who brought science to the people.

He said as much in the latest of his many press conferences. “I’m the man who brings science to you.” And he flashed a dazzling grin to the flashbulbs in the crowd. Cave Johnson was nothing if not charismatic—he loved the limelight, and it loved him. Standing on a raised stage, surrounded by people hanging on his every word, he was in his element. His secretary stood in the wings just out of view, taking notes for him and watching as he played the audience.

“Aperture’s got both feet in the future, folks. You think our latest line of bulletproof shower curtains is something? You should see what we got cooking in the labs right this minute! We got stuff that would knock Newton’s socks off!” He laughed his confident laugh. “You want flying cars in twenty years? They’re gonna be Aperture-brand!”

The crowd tittered, and Cave’s grin widened. “Ladies and gentlemen, we at Aperture Science Innovators are one hundred percent committed to bringing Progress to You. When this stuff goes on the market, and it’s gonna go on the market real soon, Aperture’s gonna change the world!” The crowd recognized the cue for applause, and cheered appropriately. Flashbulbs flashed, and Cave Johnson glowed with pride.

Somewhere in the sea of photographers and journalists, an unremarkable woman scribbled on a pad. It was this woman who mentioned him to the Administrator.

 

*          *          *

 

Mann Co. was the biggest name in weapons manufacturing. It was founded in the early 19th century, by legendary businessman Zepheniah Mann. Zepheniah had two sons, Redmond and Blutarch, but it was widely agreed that they were both blockheaded idiots who couldn’t manage a lemonade stand without causing nuclear war—so upon Zepheniah’s death, Mann Co. went to his aide, a hardy frontiersman named Barnabas Hale. Barnabas had a son, too, by the name of Bilious, and Bilious in turn had a son named Saxton. At the time of our story, Saxton Hale was the man behind Mann Co.

But behind every great man is a great woman, they say, and behind Saxton Hale was the Administrator. Her name was Helen, but no one needed to use it—when you mentioned the Administrator, people knew who you were talking about. She was the head of some shady company called TF Industries. No one knew exactly what they did, but everyone knew enough not to ask. Mann Co. was one of the organizations more overtly under its sway, but TFi’s sphere of influence was wide, and no one but the Administrator knew how far it really went. Only one other person even glimpsed the full scope of operations. That person was the Administrator’s assistant, Ms. Pauling.

Ms. Pauling was small in stature, and unassuming in appearance. She was pretty in a forgettable way—it could be said she had a kind face. People seldom noticed or remembered her, unless she looked them in the eyes. Her eyes, behind horn-rimmed glasses, were sharp as flint.

She also carried a semi-automatic pistol in her purse with which she could shoot a man between the eyes at a hundred yards. But that fact doesn’t come into this story.

 

*          *          *

 

It was an ordinary day at Aperture when Ms. Pauling came to call. She breezed past the receptionist with barely a glance—”Pauling and Bidwell, for TF Industries and Mann Co.”—and her companion, Mr. Bidwell, trailed in behind her. (Mr. Bidwell was one of Saxton Hale’s aides, which explained his nervous, milquetoast sort of demeanor. You’d be nervous too if your boss wrestled crocodiles for fun.) With Bidwell following, she marched down the main hallway, down the wide flight of stairs, through the lobby, and up to the great glass elevator that led to the executive level. No one took so much as a glance at them.

Up the elevator, down another hallway, and finally the pair stood outside the door marked “Cave Johnson, CEO.” Ms. Pauling pushed the door and strode inside.

The secretary looked up from her typing. This was not, in fact, Cave Johnson’s office. It was the outer office, reserved for his assistant—his was the inner office, through the door beside her desk. She greeted the visitors with a standard smile. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Mr. Johnson.”

“Do you have an app—”

“Yes, we’re with TF Industries and Mann Co. The names are Pauling and Bidwell.” Ms. Pauling, as an assistant herself, knew all the formalities and wasn’t in the mood for them.

The secretary checked her list. Yes, they did have an appointment, and they were right on time. She buzzed Mr. Johnson’s office. “Mr. Johnson? Ms. Pauling and Mr. Bidwell are here to see you.”

“Send ‘em in, kiddo.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.” She started to rise from her chair, a “Right this way” ready on her lips, but Ms. Pauling brushed past with a curt “Thank you” and the words died. Her expression was unreadable as she watched the other woman disappear into her boss’s office.

Mr. Bidwell followed a little more slowly. His eyes lingered on the secretary.

 

*          *          *

 

Cave was leaning back in his office chair, in a pose carefully practiced to look both dominant and relaxed. He smiled as they entered. “Hi there. How can I help you folks?”

Ms. Pauling’s gaze flicked first to the grand portrait on the wall behind the desk—an ostentatious thing, complete with a little gold nameplate at the bottom—then to the man himself who sat beneath it. Both wore identical grins that looked too charming for anyone’s good. Pauling didn’t fall for it. “I’m here about your files, Mr. Johnson.”

Cave maintained his smile, but his brow wrinkled a little. “Files?”

“Yes sir. It’s a well-known fact that Aperture’s filing system is the best in the country. We want to know how you do it.”

It took talent to be proud and confused at the same time, but Cave Johnson could be proud and anything at the same time. His chest puffed out at the compliment. “Well, uh. ‘Course we take pride in out filing system. We take pride in everything here at Aperture.”

“I’m sure you do.” The woman’s smile was a trifle thin. “That’s why TF Industries wants to learn from you, Mr. Johnson. What’s your secret?”

“My secret? Good teeth and a little Brylcreem, little lady,” Cave said with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair—but the joke fell flat. He cleared his throat. “But, uh, to tell you the truth, that’s not my department. See, as the CEO of this place, I’m a big picture guy. I’m busy with important science stuff, so I can’t waste my time with—”

“I’m sure you’re very important, Mr. Johnson,” Pauling interrupted, “but we’re really here about your filing system.”

“Tell you what—I’ll take you down to the testing spheres and show you science in action! You’ve never seen anything like it—”

“Please, Mr. Johnson. The filing system.”

Cave wasn’t used to being interrupted. It threw him off balance. “Well. Uh. My secretary takes care of filing and stuff. Sure you don’t wanna see the testing spheres?”

“Mr. Johnson—”

Then Mr. Bidwell spoke up for the first time. “Let’s talk to the secretary, then.” The other two glanced at him, and he continued, “That was her out there, wasn’t it? Ask her to show us where the files are kept.”

Johnson didn’t notice the way Pauling’s eyes sparked. He buzzed her desk. “Kiddo, c’mere a sec.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.” And the secretary peeped in at the door. She wilted a little as all three faces turned to her.

Bidwell, in a sudden show of boldness, stepped up to her. “Miss…?” he trailed off, expecting an introduction.

“Caroline.”

“Your boss tells us you’re in charge of the file system here at Aperture. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Would you show it to us, please?”

Her eyes widened warily and flicked over to her boss. “I don’t know if that’s—”

“Show ‘em the file room, kiddo.”

Further words stuck in her throat. She swallowed them. “Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.”

And so the four of them set off down the hall, with Caroline in the lead. Bidwell followed her closely, and Cave followed Bidwell. Pauling kept to the rear. Her watchful gaze darted everywhere.

When they reached their destination, Caroline lifted the key from a chain around her neck and unlocked the door. Inside, the file room was still and quiet. Pauling’s eyes took in rows upon rows of neatly labeled files. Bidwell’s eyes stayed on Caroline.

“Here’s where we keep all our most important records and things,” Cave started—

But Bidwell cut him off. “Why don’t we let Miss Caroline show us around?”

The secretary flushed red. She seemed nervous letting visitors into her domain, but she did as she was asked. Going over to one shelf, she eased a file partway out and explained hesitantly, “This section is for lab reports. Here I group everything by laboratory, and then by date. For instance, this one is from Robotics, and it’s dated May 16, 1952…”

She continued, but no one was listening. Pauling’s attention danced from the files to the CEO and back, taking in the man himself even as she skimmed the labels. Johnson’s smile was gone, replaced by something stormier than confusion. He was watching Bidwell.

Who was watching Caroline.

 

*          *          *

 

The two visitors were careful not to overstay their welcome, and with them gone, business could continue as usual. Except that it didn’t. Cave felt distracted and ornery, and he couldn’t for the life of him put his finger on why. Whatever it was, it kept him from concentrating on anything for more than a few seconds—longer than that and he’d find himself suddenly thinking about that sheep-faced lackey and wanting to punch something.

He managed to get through the day, only snapping at a few more employees than usual, but something kept him in the office even after the drones had gone home. Only his secretary remained, and she was on her way out too. “Can I do anything else, Mr. Johnson?” she asked one last time.

He started to say no, but something held the words back. He was tired and cranky, it had been a very long day, and no she damn well wasn’t getting off the hook that easily. He turned on her.

“Yeah, you can do something. You can stop _flirting_ with _goddamn strangers_ every time they come into this office!” The ire in his voice took her by surprise. “You’re here to do science, not to pick up men!” Her eyes widened with shock and hurt, and she shrank back, openmouthed. He pushed on anyway. “If you work for me, you represent my company, got that? You are _not allowed_ to make goo-goo eyes at every guy who comes in here! You want me to look like I’m running a damn cathouse?” She shook her head mutely. “You’re a secretary, not a streetwalker. Right?” She nodded. “ _Right?_ ”

“Y-yes sir, Mr. Johnson.”

“You do it again, you’re fired!”

The girl looked about to cry. “Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.”

“Good,” he finished gruffly. “Now get outta here.”

She swallowed her tears and gathered her things without another word. The door shut with a thump behind her.

Cave sighed. Now on top of the moodiness, something in his belly ached. Maybe he was getting sick. He trudged back to his office and sat heavily behind his desk, massaging his scalp with his fingers. Even brilliant men of science had bad days. He slouched over and let his head sink into his hands.

And Bidwell was staring at Caroline.

His head jerked up. He let out a groan, rubbed a hand across his face, and sighed again. He needed to unwind. He ran his fingers through his hair and loosened his tie. It had been a long day, and he deserved a break. His jacket shrugged off his shoulders, and he stretched broadly in his chair, letting his elbows rest on the desk as he dropped his head in his hands.

Bidwell was still staring at Caroline.

Hell, he _really_ needed to unwind. He hauled himself up from behind the desk, went to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and gulped it down. The empty glass came down a little too hard on the cabinet as he finished. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand—the feverish feeling was still there.

How feverish? He felt fine. He was in the prime of life and healthy as a horse. He put the bourbon away, plunked back into his chair, leaned back, and put his feet up on the desk. He closed his eyes.

Bidwell would not stop staring at Caroline!

_Why?_ Why in the world would Hale’s mindless peon be interested in Caroline? Cave growled and shifted in his seat. There simply was no other way of explaining that look—he _was_ interested. Cave squeezed his eyes shut and studied the memory of Bidwell. Clearly, something about his secretary interested him. Facts were facts. But _what?_ The kid had soft brown eyes like a doe’s, but who cared about eyes? Her dark hair was thick and long and lustrous, if you liked that sort of thing. And she sure had curves under that modest dress, but so did a lot of girls. Yeah, she had an hourglass figure and long, shapely legs. So what? Of course her mouth was pink and perfect, and her cheeks blushed like roses; he wouldn’t keep her around if she weren’t easy on the eyes. But lots of girls were easy on the eyes—he kept her especially because she was good at her damn job.

Cave sat up. That was it. It had to be. Caroline was the best filer and note-taker he had, and Bidwell wanted to poach her for Mann Co.

Could it have been anything else? He thought hard. His own peons followed his secretary around a lot, when she was running errands for him, but they were idiots, they followed anything. And she always ignored them, because if she’d ever opened her mouth, they would have realized that was all she was good for, filing and note-taking; she was, after all, just a stupid kid.

It was really very strange that Bidwell should be so interested in some secretary, even if she was quite a good one. Cave shrugged. Peon psychology wasn’t his problem. The kid wouldn’t quit in a million years, anyway, so any Mann Co. plan to steal her was worthless. Nothing to worry about. He stretched, and yawned, and scratched himself, and let his tired body sink into the chair, and _people don’t look at other people the way Bidwell looked at his secretary because they can take dictation_.

“Aw, hell,” Cave growled.

Now _his secretary_ was staring back at _Bidwell_. She was walking down the hallway with her hips swaying and Cave was standing there watching as she turned and looked, for the first time, deep into Bidwell’s eyes.

Cave jumped up again and began to pace the room. How could she? Oh, it was alright if she looked at him, but she wasn’t looking at him, she was _looking at him_.

“He’s a damn patsy,” the CEO muttered, fuming like a furnace. Men like Bidwell existed for one reason—to work for people with brains enough to run things. He couldn’t manage half the stuff Cave Johnson did in a day if he tried. Tagging along after that skirt with the glasses, he looked like a bewildered sheep.

Bidwell was a patsy, and that was that. No use dwelling on it. He poured himself another drink. The man was nebbish and incompetent, and—hell, he wasn’t even cut out to gofer coffee. And he was too short for her anyway. Scrawny bastard. With his stupid bland face and his stupid reedy voice and his eyes that wouldn’t stop _looking_ at her…

Cave started pouring the third drink as soon as he finished the second one. It took all his self-control not to smash something. His heart was pounding and his face flushed red and his palms were sweaty and his hands shook and in a lesser man, this feeling might have been called _jealousy_ —but Cave Johnson did not get jealous. Cave Johnson had never been jealous of anyone in his life. Especially not of some worthless, brainless, spineless flunky who had the _gall_ to look at _his_ secretary.

It was a very long and very green night.

He was outside her tiny duplex apartment before dawn. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again, harder. Still no answer. He pounded on the door with his fist for a good five minutes, and then noticed the doorbell. That was worth a try. He mashed his thumb into the button and didn’t let up for a good five minutes more—until finally the door opened.

She appeared in the doorway, wearing a robe thrown over her nightgown, long hair tousled, dark eyes bleary with sleep. She blinked. He looked at her. Then he looked away.

She was too beautiful.

The fact of the matter was that he loved her. He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone before. He had been romantic with many women, yes, but never loved them, and now he was feeling things he didn’t even know it was possible to feel. He didn’t even have a word for them, “love” not being in his practical vocabulary—which made his next speech a little bit difficult.

“Hey.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, kiddo.”

He could have said she was lovelier, more graceful, more totally spellbinding than any woman he’d ever seen. He could have said he adored her. He could have knelt at her feet and offered her the world. He could at least have apologized for years of harsh treatment, and maybe said thank you.  

He said “Kiddo” again, and coughed.

For the very first time, Cave Johnson’s silver tongue had turned to lead.

“Look. Kiddo. There’s, uh—there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. See, when a man and a woman—a good-looking, successful man like myself, say, and a—and a girl like you—well, sometimes things happen with men and women, y’know? ‘Specially when they work together. Like we do. Right? And when two people work together—well I don’t mean _work_ work, like in an office, I mean—actually there are rules against that, hadn’t thought of that part—” He cleared his throat again. “Um. Anyway. Don’t need to talk about that, that’s not what I’m getting at. What I’m saying is, you and I—we have a kinda—working relationship. Y’know? You been my secretary for a few years now, and I’ve never had a bad thing to say about you. You’re the last person I’d ever expect to do something wrong. Not that you did do something wrong, I’m not saying that. I mean, you’re the best secretary I ever had—”

He stumbled suddenly. The unplanned compliment took him by surprise. But he took another breath and persevered. “Yeah, you are. You’re the best secretary I ever had. And that means something, Caroline. I’ve never called you that before, have I? Well Caroline—Caroline—’s a pretty name, I dunno why I haven’t used it—what I’m saying is, Caroline, that we work real well together. We make a good team.” He took a deep breath. “Caroline, you’re the backbone of Aperture Science Innovators, and I dunno what I’d do without you. Just wanted to tell you that.” And with that, he dared the bravest thing he’d ever done: he looked right into her eyes.

She closed the door in his face.

Without a word.

Without a word.

Cave’s shoulders slumped, but he said nothing. His whole body felt made of lead. He wasn’t used to defeat, and was even less used to accepting it—but he didn’t know what else to do. So without a word, he trudged down her front lawn and got back in his car. Without a single word.

The drive home was a long one, and very lonely. He sat in silence with his eyes fixed on the road.

Not even _one_ word. She hadn’t had the decency for that. “Yes sir,” she could have said. Would it have killed her to say “Yes sir,” like always?

Why couldn’t she at least have said something?

Cave thought very hard about that for a moment. And suddenly he had the answer: she didn’t talk because the minute she opened her mouth, that was it. Sure she was gorgeous, but dumb as a rock. The minute she had exercised her tongue, it would have all been over.

“Duhhhhhhh.”

That’s what she would have said. That was the kind of thing Caroline came out with when she was feeling really sharp. “Duhhhhhhh, tanks, Mr. Johnson.”

Cave shook himself and smiled. He took a deep breath, heaved a sigh. It was just one of those things. You got these little quick passions, you blinked, and they were gone. He was an impulsive guy. This sort of thing was to be expected. And he hadn’t made a fool of himself at all—she knew better than to mention it to anyone, on pain of dismissal, so nobody else ever had to know. Forget about it, champ, and get on with the morning. Cave pulled into the Aperture parking lot, strolled into the building, ran a comb through his hair in the men’s room mirror—ladykiller, as usual—and gulped down another bourbon as soon as he got to his office. Because there was a limit to just how much you could lie to yourself.

Caroline wasn’t stupid.

Oh, he could pretend she was. He could laugh about her soft-spoken shyness. He could chide himself for his silly infatuation with some kid. The truth was simply this: she had a head on her shoulders, with a brain inside every bit as good as his. There was a reason she hadn’t spoken, and it had nothing to do with gray cells working. She hadn’t spoken because, really, there was nothing for her to say.

He thought she was perfect, and she didn’t care.

It was an awful day. Caroline was the next one in the building, as usual, but she didn’t even look at him as she brought his morning coffee. She didn’t look at him all day, and her conversation was limited to things like “Phone for you, Mr. Johnson,” and “Mr. Jennings is here to see you, Mr. Johnson.” He plodded through briefings and conferences in a fog. His heart wasn’t in it. He could talk anyone into anything, could win over any woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and it meant nothing. The one time it mattered, he wasn’t good enough. He’d never been not good enough before. It made him feel sick.

The hours dragged by so slowly it hurt, but at last the day ended. The sun was sinking outside, and the facility emptied in minutes as Cave’s employees went back to their homes. The CEO himself sat slumped behind his desk, firmly ignoring the paperwork in front of him, when he heard footsteps outside his door. He sat up. Someone knocked. “What?” he barked.

“It’s Caroline, sir.”

His heart leaped into his throat before he could stop it. _C’mon, Cave, pull yourself together_ , he thought frantically, as his pulse pounded in his ears. _She’s just a kid_. He swallowed his nerves, straightened his tie, and leaned way back in his chair. _Play it cool_. “Caroline?” he said. “Do I know a Caro—oh, _kiddo!_ C’mon in!” He propped his feet up as she entered, and said in his most casual tone, “Glad you stopped by, kiddo. I was starting to feel kinda bad about this morning, coming by your house and all. Shouldn’t have woken you up just for a stupid joke. You knew I was joking, right? All that teamwork crap. You know me, I wouldn’t do teamwork if my life depended on it. Cave Johnson doesn’t do teams. I work on my own, and I don’t need anybody. You know that. Right?”

“Sir…” Her voice was soft, and she still wasn’t looking at him. “I’m leaving, sir.”

Cave’s stomach dropped through the floor. “Leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Now wait a minute. Wait one goddamn minute!” Suddenly irate, he surged out of his chair and towered over her, or would have if she weren’t almost his height in heels. “This is about Mann Co., isn’t it? Just tell me what they offered you and I’ll match it. Double it. Whatever you want. If that asshole Bidwell thinks he can steal you, he’s got another thing coming!”

“Sir?”

“I don’t care how much he makes eyes at you, that guy is not getting you away from Aperture. You want a company car? A thousand-dollar bonus? You got it! I don’t care! _Screw_ Mann Co.!”

“What—”

“And what the hell makes you think you can just walk out, huh? You’re my secretary! You can’t just quit on me, woman, I need you!”

She just looked at him, frowning a little.

Her soft brown eyes knotted up his tongue again. He finished lamely, “And Bidwell’s too short for you, anyway.”

“Mr. Johnson, what are you talking about?”

“I’m not just gonna let you leave.”

“I’m only going home for the night, sir.”

He stumbled over his own tongue. “…Oh. Good.”

“I’m not going to run off anywhere, Mr. Johnson.” A soft blush painted her cheeks. “I belong here at Aperture. Nothing anyone could offer me would ever make me leave.” And that was true—more true than she could say.

The fact of the matter was that she loved him. She had for many years. He had been her childhood hero, when he was a young entrepreneur and she was a girl of twelve. She’d slept for years with his picture under her pillow. She loved science as much as he did, and to work at Aperture was her heart’s deepest dream—stumbling on his ad in the classifieds had seemed then, to an eighteen-year-old with no family and no money, like the opportunity of a lifetime. She cried with joy the day he gave her the job.

Every day since she only loved him more. She said nothing, but she felt it every time she heard his voice, and every time he smiled. She loved him by being the best assistant he could ask for: efficient, resourceful, and always obedient. The company really had improved by leaps and bounds since she was hired, and it was because she loved him. And because she couldn’t say the words “I love you,” she said, “Yes sir, Mr. Johnson,” instead. Every time she said, “Yes sir, Mr. Johnson,” what she meant was, “I love you.”

Now, in her heart of hearts, she suspected he loved her back.

She said softly, “I wanted to ask if there’s anything else you need.”

“Nah. That’s all today, kiddo.”

She nodded, and lowered her head. “I’ll go home, then.”

“Yeah.”

She turned away from him, took a step towards the door.

His stomach knotted up.

She took another step. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Yeah.” He stammered a little.

She reached for the doorknob. He couldn’t quite breathe.

“Actually, there is one thing.”

She turned back, and her eyes were the color of coffee and chocolate, and her barely-open mouth was soft and pink as a young rose. “Yes sir?”

He tried not to stammer again. “Caroline…”

“Yes?” She took a little step towards him, looking up with those wide dark eyes, and his tongue felt thick and useless. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “What is it, Mr. Johnson?”

“Ah. Um. Caroline…”

She was close enough to kiss.

“Would you kiss me?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.”

And she did. `

 

*          *          *

 

Cave Johnson had numerous great moments in his life thus far. The day he bought the old salt mine that became Aperture Science, and the day of the facility’s Grand Opening. The first time he made headlines, with his picture in the paper. The day he made his first million dollars. Any one of these events would be enough to make a lifetime extraordinary, and Cave Johnson had many.

That night left them all behind.

 

*          *          *

 

It began the best time of their lives. Cave Johnson and his assistant were an unstoppable force, and with both of them working ‘round the clock, Aperture rocketed to the fore of the scientific world. Profits more than doubled as business rolled in, and the labs turned out more and better results every day. They had the world at their feet. Caroline blossomed—in weeks she seemed to grow from a shy young girl to a confident, assertive woman. She’d been Cave’s useful helper before, but now she was his right hand. As for the CEO, he was in better spirits than ever, and no one was about to question why. His booming laugh echoed through the halls wherever he went, and Caroline’s light, lilting tones accompanied it. Both of them wore near constant smiles.

Together, they made Aperture a household name.  Their stock prices soared, and securing a contract with the US Armed Forces—Caroline’s idea—gave them extra income to fund more experiments than they ever dared to dream of. Fame and fortune landed right at their doorstep.

The realization didn’t sink in until the lab cloned a live dodo bird, and _Scientific American_ ran a ten-page story on it. Caroline could barely contain her excitement when the journalist arrived. She’d read _Scientific American_ regularly since she was a teenager—seeing their company logo in the headline felt surreal. Cave only grinned and said, “We’re on the up and up, kiddo.”

The next month they had a breakthrough in cross-phylum hybrids—the lab boys called them “Mantis Men”—and Cave made his first string of appearances on television talk shows. They built a working anti-gravity chamber, and Cave was on the cover of _Forbes_ magazine. They devoted a whole testing sphere to growing live organs in chemical vats, and the President told Cave to call him Ike. That year Aperture made the top five of the Fortune 500, coming in just barely below Black Mesa—but they’d beat the bastards someday. Every employee was certain of it now.

Meanwhile Cave did interview after interview, gaining celebrity status with each one. He flourished in front of cameras and microphones. Caroline organized his notes and cue cards neatly for each appearance, and she always hovered right behind the crew, watching her boss with a proud smile. The public was finally seeing in him what she saw all along.

But the more publicity he got, the less he seemed to care. Not that he didn’t enjoy fame and fortune—he certainly did—but they were icing on the cake. For the first time in years, he was truly happy. He was doing science—and he was in love.

Which was why Caroline’s death hit him the way it did.

It struck like lightning on a clear day. She was in the robotics lab, overseeing the first test run of a new artificial intelligence project—normally she would’ve been with Cave in a meeting, but the lab techs insisted that one of them should be present for this important test, and Caroline agreed. So Cave was in the boardroom with an important investor when the accident happened, and didn’t hear about it until a frantic aide burst in with the news.

No one could quite settle on a story. All they knew was that the lab had sealed off without warning and stayed that way until an emergency team hacked inside with a fire axe. They found a nightmarish scene inside. The air was filled with toxic gas, the floor was slick with blood, and everyone inside was very dead. The lab equipment was in shreds, as if a wild animal with the strength of a tank had torn apart the room. The experiment itself had vanished.

Some people said they’d heard the screams.

When the aide told him, Cave’s face blanched dead white. He dashed out of the meeting and down to the lab, but at the broken-down door the emergency team held him back. He shouldn’t go in there, they insisted. The forensics specialists were there now, and they were trying to figure this out. He really shouldn’t go in there. It took three men to hold him back.

“ _Caroline!_ ”

“She’s dead, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“ _CAROLINE!_ ”

“The bodies will be in the morgue later, sir. You can… you can see her then.”

“I’m gonna see her _now_ , you goddamn—”

“Please, sir. You really don’t want to go in there.”

He opened his mouth to protest again, but at that moment a pair of medics walked out carrying a full body bag. Cave watched them pass in choked silence. He stared after them and asked, in a softer tone, “How’d it happen?”

“Sir—”

“Did they gas her? Or cut her open, o-or crush her, or what?” His voice shook.

“Her head was—” one of the younger medics began, but an older one stomped on his foot and he shut up.

“We’ll move her to the morgue, and you can—”

“Nah.” Cave waved off the words with a hand. His eyes were focused on something far away. “Thanks, though.” It didn’t matter how she died. In his memory, she was alive and brilliant and beautiful. She would stay that way.

He went to his office and shut the door.

He stayed there for days. No one knew if he slept or ate. His assistant’s self-appointed replacement, a harried man named Greg, canceled his meetings and told all callers he was away on an unexpected trip. Occasionally Greg would dare a knock at the door to ask if he wanted food, but the CEO never responded. It was very quiet inside. He never made sound.

In the labs, science went on without him.

When he emerged at last, his eyes were dry. Greg looked up at him, and started to rise from his chair, but Cave stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Any messages?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Back to work.”

As he strode down the halls once more, curious eyes dogged his every step. Employees stared openly, sacrificing tact to gauge the mood of their volatile boss. He was a changed man. The bright enthusiasm in his face was gone, replaced by grim severity. His features looked set in stone. Cautiously, one brave accountant approached and told him the news: Black Mesa’s facility had suffered a minor accident involving leaked radiation, which led to a few dozen minor cases of radiation poisoning in a nearby town and some serious bad press. In response, their stock value had taken a dip, while Aperture’s had risen with the release of their newest shower curtain line. According to the numbers, Aperture was on top at last.

That was good news, wasn’t it?

Cave gave the accountant a long, hard stare.

“To hell with it.”

Without Caroline, he never did science again.


	2. Chapter 2

Saxton Hale was made of muscle. His legs were sturdy tree-trunk legs, his arms were thicker than mighty anacondas, and his chest was so broad he couldn’t squeeze it into a shirt—he had long ago given up trying, and now walked around with his map-of-Australia chest hair on full display. He could’ve made great money as a bodybuilder, flexing in front of a crowd, but bodybuilding was too dull a sport for him. So was being a CEO, in fact. Running Mann Co. was a tedious job—he delegated most of his duties to his aides, except the duties that included weapons testing or shouting at people. He enjoyed weapons and shouting. Everything else he tolerated out of obligation.

Fighting was his love.

He could also have been a champion boxer or wrestler, but Hale didn’t fight people (apart from any hippies unfortunate enough to cross his path. That wasn’t real fighting, though. That was exterminating). There was no sport in fighting people—they were far too fragile, and there were too many rules. Saxton Hale saw nothing wrong with biting an ear or ripping a scrotum in a scuffle. He liked his fights rough and merciless. He fought animals.

He started as a boy in the wilds of Australia, learning to wrestle Tasmanian devils under the proud eye of his father, Bilious. From there he moved on to small crocodiles, and then larger ones. He boxed kangaroos, strangled deadly snakes, and shattered the jaws of great white sharks. Not one animal on his home continent could withstand his relentless force. So he set off abroad, traveling the world to find and fight its deadliest creatures. He had a grand old time beating up tigers in India and alligators in Mexico, and he enjoyed the US apart from one small incident—he got himself kicked out of Yellowstone for harassing the bears—but out of all the world, Africa became his favorite destination. Gorillas trembled and lions fled in terror at the sight of him. He could have spent twenty years traveling in a Jeep from country to country, beating the tar out of every hippo in Zimbabwe and every rhino in Namibia, breaking the teeth of every croc in the Nile. An eternal African safari was his idea of paradise.

But then Bilious Hale died, and Saxton’s duties at Mann Co. called him back home. He quickly discovered that the corporate life was not for him—he spent his days surrounded by toadying white-collar workers who couldn’t take down an antelope if they tried, and the most fun he ever had was getting rid of the patchouli-scented vermin who tried to stage sit-ins outside the main building. After a miserable few months resigned to local wildlife, which had long ago lost its appeal, he finally came up with an Idea:

Since he couldn’t travel the world for opponents, why not bring the opponents to him?

That was how the Zoo of Death began. He designed it himself, with the help of Mann Co.’s top engineers, and he sent his hirelings across the world to stock it for him. It was kept brimming with deadly beasts for him to fight, and it really wasn’t like any other animal sanctuary anywhere. In the first place, there were never any visitors. There was only one key, and Hale kept that himself. His two assistants, Mr. Bidwell and Mr. Reddy, were the only people allowed in without supervision, and they had to ask him for the key each time. They were in charge of feeding the animals, and making sure every creature was fighting fit. Saxton Hale would have no weakness in his private collection.

The other thing about the Zoo was that it was underground. Hale had it constructed beneath the sprawling Mann Co. property, in an artificial cavern built to his exact specifications. It had five levels. On the first level were pack hunters, mostly canines: wolves, hyenas, and wild dogs. They were fierce but small, so he would fight them five at a time. On the second level belonged beasts of size: elephants, rhinos, and hippopotami. Though they had no taste for blood, he enjoyed testing himself against their size and strength. The third level was for reptiles: the crushing anaconda, the fast and deadly cobra, the vicious crocodile, and the brutish Komodo dragon. The fourth level, his favorite, was reserved for large carnivores of the jaws-and-claws variety: the lions, the tigers, the grizzly bears. Bidwell and Reddy used extra caution during feeding time on the fourth level.

The fifth level was empty.

Hale constructed it in the hopes of someday finding something worthy, something as dangerous and fierce and powerful as he was.

Unlikely. Still, he was an eternal optimist, so he kept the great cage of the fifth level always in readiness.

And there was really more than enough that was lethal on the other four levels to keep a man happy. Hale spent many pleasant hours in the Zoo, letting his underlings run the company while he wrestled his rhinos and bears. He had the deadliest animals in the world to amuse him—whenever the mood struck, he could bark a command and have his opponent ready in minutes. It was the perfect diversion for a fighting man.

                                 

*          *          *

 

When Mr. Reddy made his intrusion, Hale was finishing a four-hour bout with a gorilla. The beast had tired in a disappointingly short amount of time. He could feel the strength in its arms flagging as he grappled with it, and it kept trying to bite his neck, a sure sign the fight was almost over. He caught the ape in a rib-crushing bear hug, feeling it struggle in his grip—and Reddy cleared his throat as he peered over the edge of the fighting pit.

“Mr. Hale, you’ve got a phone call from—”

“Hold on, I’m busy.”

“But it’s—”

“Reddy, I said—agh!” He’d turned his head for a split second to look at the intruder, and the gorilla had sunk its teeth into his shoulder. With a mighty heave he threw the thing off. It landed with a thud on the hard stone ground, and an instant later his fist collided with its face. There was an audible crack, and one of its fangs flew across the pit. “I said I’m busy, dammit!”

Reddy watched, unperturbed, as his boss continued to pummel the animal. The bite wound didn’t seem to slow him down a bit. Two more blows bloodied his opponent’s face, and then Hale grabbed it by the throat, lifting it high into the air and hurling it onto the ground again. Before it could recover he had it in a headlock from behind. His huge hands grabbed its skull, and twisted.

C

     R

          A

               C

                    K

The gorilla went limp beneath him. Stepping over the carcass, Hale swiped his kangaroo-leather outback hat from where it had fallen and settled it back on his head. “There.” He looked up at his aide, mounting the ladder out of the pit. “Now what’s that call about?”

“That was the Administrator, sir. She wants to see you immediately.”

“Ha!” he grinned broadly. “I’ll bet she does! Helen never could resist my chiseled good looks.”

“She said it was a business matter, sir.”

“‘Course she did!” Hefting himself to level ground, Hale stood and clapped a friendly hand on Reddy’s shoulder. The other man stumbled under the blow. “Remember this, mate, ‘cause it’s important: when a woman tells a man she wants to see him, it means she wants sex. If she says immediately, she wants it rough.” He winked. They had a lot of catching up to do.

 

*          *          *

 

The Administrator sat alone in her office, waiting. She’d done a lot of waiting in the past few years. Her wait was almost over.

Things were ready to be set in motion. Ms. Pauling kept her up to speed on the happenings within TF Industries’ subsidiary companies, and for news outside TFi, she had a network of spies and undercover agents reporting in from every major corporation and world power around the globe. Between them, she kept abreast of everything. She had a lot of irons in the fire, a lot of flies to keep track of in her grand scheming web—but when a single one of them was ripe for attention, she knew.

This time the lucky fly was Aperture Science.

In the last few years, the once promising company had slipped to precarious ground. Within weeks of the radiation incident at Black Mesa, Aperture peaked and started to plummet. As if jinxed by its own success, the company’s value fell as rapidly as it had climbed, and now its stock prices hung at just above half what they’d been at their height. They continued doing science, but their business dealings were shaky at best, and lately bad press had started to leak out—rumors about unethical testing, hazardous working conditions, even employee deaths. The company was teetering on the edge of collapse. Everyone knew it.

And over the years, through the eyes of a dozen undercover operatives, the Administrator watched. She watched, and she waited.

Now it was time to act.

If only that Australian buffoon would get here…

Just as she was growing impatient, Pauling buzzed the intercom on her desk. Finally. “ _Mr. Hale is h_ —”

“ _Helen! Hi!_ ” The man’s booming voice cut off her assistant’s. “ _Glad you called me over, you gorgeous thing. Heard you got, uh,_ urgent business _or something?_ ”

The way he said _urgent business_ communicated exactly what he was thinking. She rolled her eyes. “Send him in.”

“ _Yes ma’am_.”

And a moment later Saxton Hale barged through her door, all bravado and bare pectorals. His face broke into a grin as he set eyes on her. “There you are, you coy little vixen. It’s been too damn long.”

The Administrator had never been a vixen, even in her younger days, which were now long gone. She was a bone-thin harpy of a woman, harsh and merciless, with a face that never learned how to smile—in every way the opposite of the jovial colossus in the doorway. He was crazy about her, of course. Opposites attract.

She tapped her cigarette impatiently, knocking off a few flakes of ash, and took a long drag. “Sit down, Mr. Hale.”

“Aw, y’know you don’t have to call me that.” He pulled up a chair and sat, massive physique dwarfing the furniture. “It’s Saxton for you, sweetheart.”

“Yes. Saxton.” She made a face like she was sucking a lemon.

He only grinned wider. “So what’ve you been up to since our last ron-day-voo? Still like steak dinners and sex with handsome men?”

“Saxton, this is important.”

“Oh I know it is—”

“Let me finish, please.” She shot him a look and he shut up. “Do you know the current situation on Aperture Science Innovators?”

His bushy eyebrows knit beneath the brim of his hat. “Don’t you know it? You’re always so keen on knowing situations and stuff—”

“Yes I do, Saxton, but do you?” she cut him off, impatience lacing her voice like arsenic. “Or do I have to explain it to you?”

“Well I, uh…” He leaned back in the too-small chair and rubbed the back of his neck. It occurred to him that he really didn’t know much of it at all. “I’ve heard a little, here and there. Haven’t heard much from ol’ Cave in a while, though. I prob’ly haven’t seen him in…”

“Several years?”

“Yeah.”

The Administrator took a drag, leaned forward, and loosed a puff of smoke from between her thin lips as she spoke. “There’s a reason for that, Saxton, and I could tell you why—but all you need to know is this. Aperture Science is on its last legs. The place is going to collapse completely without outside assistance, and right now they’re not trying hard to find it. It looks to me like Mr. Johnson has given up.”

Hale’s face fell a little in sympathy. “That’s a damn shame. Never met a man so crazy for science.”

“Well he doesn’t seem so crazy about it anymore, so if Aperture is going to survive, someone else will have to pull it through. Someone like us, Saxton.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

The Administrator steepled her long fingers and leveled her gaze at him like a leopard about to pounce. “I mean a buyout.”

Hale’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean like—”

“A corporate buyout of Aperture by TF Industries. If it were our subsidiary, we could keep it afloat without bothering poor Cave Johnson any longer. Perhaps we could even merge it with Mann Co.…”

That made his eyebrows nearly pop off his face. “You mean all those fancy rocket launchers and robots would go to me?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” She took another drag and pursed her lips to blow smoke into the room. “It would be the best thing for Aperture, and a huge boon for us. _Win-win._ I called you here because I hoped you could pay Johnson a visit and suggest it yourself.”

Hale stroked his mustache thoughtfully, having the good sense to look unsure. “Well… I dunno how he’d take that…”

“I’m sure he’ll take it well. It’s in his best interests. And you are his friend, after all.” The word _friend_ rolled off her tongue like something distasteful. The Administrator didn’t have friends, and was rather sickened by the whole concept—but matters of this importance called for drastic measures.

“Yeah…” She could see the wheels turning in his mind. Turning those wheels was an arduous process, but slowly, slowly, she saw him reach a conclusion. “ _Yeah!_ You’re damn right!” And as soon as the idea took root, there was no stopping him. A spark of fervor lit his eye as he slammed his massive hands onto her desk. “It’s a win-win! It’s bloody good sense, is what it is!” He pointed at her in conviction with a sausage-like finger. “I’m gonna go over there A-S-A-P, and I’m gonna lay it out for him. Right?”

“Right.” And as a reward, she threw him a bone. “I knew I could count on you.”

It was too far. The man’s expression changed immediately to a leering grin, and she knew she’d distracted him. “You sure can, angel,” he purred, propping an elbow on her desk and leaning in suggestively. “And if you wanna count on me for more later, I got a new bearskin rug that would look great with you on it…”

“Maybe another time, Saxton.” She only sneered a little, speaking volumes of her self-control. “Right now you’ve got to make an appointment at Aperture.”

She watched as his train of thought lurched from one track to another. “—Yeah! Yeah, right, right.” He was back on track now, and confident as ever. “And he’s gonna sell us the whole place, rockets and all, right?”

The Administrator’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction. It was the closest her face could come to a smile. “I don’t see that he has a choice.”

 

*          *          *

 

Cave Johnson should have laughed in his face. He should have grinned his million-watt grin, propped his feet up on his desk, folded his arms, and said, “Yeah, right! I’d rather sell both my kidneys! Now are you really here to tell me something, or should I have Caroline pour us a drink?”

He should’ve said that, but he didn’t.

Instead, his mouth twitched in the weakest shadow of that once-dazzling smile, and he said halfheartedly, “I’m not gonna sell Aperture.”

“No, you are _definitely_ gonna sell Aperture, and I’ll tell you why: because you’re a smart man, Johnson! You got a nose for business, know what I mean? You can smell a sour deal—and Aperture Science smells like a dead dingo on the side of the road right now.”

Cave looked levelly at the shirtless Australian across from him, leaning forward like an offensive lineman in his too-small chair. Honestly, the man looked like an idiot—but he was the kind of idiot who could punch you through a wall, which was why he did so well in business deals. You didn’t cheat a man with biceps the size of your head. He wasn’t the smooth talker Cave Johnson was, but he was trying now, for some reason. Usually he preferred to smash a table first and negotiate from there. Cave folded his hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your market value! Nobody wants to touch you, mate, and it’s because your company’s going down the tubes!” Hale talked with his hands when he got excited. They were flying in Cave’s face now.

“Now wait a minute—”

“Look at your numbers!” A thick finger jabbed at his nose. “When was the last time your stocks went up, huh?”

“It’s not all about numbers, Hale.”

“Alright, look at your products! When was the last time you fellas came out with a new science jelly or robot toaster or something?”

The hand swept out in a wide gesture. Cave glared at it. “We have a lotta stuff still in testing—”

“Nobody gives a damn about testing, Johnson! People want results!” Hale’s fist came down decisively on Cave’s desk, nearly spilling his coffee. “Face it, mate, Aperture Science just don’t deliver anymore!”

“We’ll deliver when we’re good and ready!”

“Well I got news for you: nobody’s gonna wait that long. Unless somebody’s crazy enough to give you a helluvalot of cash, your ship is sunk.”

“Maybe we’re not top of the heap anymore, but we’re still doing science—”

“ _Nobody wants your science!_ ”

Saxton’s outburst left silence in its wake. The tension between the two men was like a steel cable, pulled tight in a tug-of-war of wills—and in a contest of stubbornness, Cave Johnson was undefeatable. He could take on anyone and never budge an inch. He’d stay here for a week if he had to, just to show this Aussie meathead who was boss around here. He would never give up, not Cave Johnson. No, sir.

Another beat of silence passed—and Cave Johnson looked away. Before he spoke, Saxton knew he had won.

“So you want me to _sell_ the place?”

Hale’s face broke into a broad grin, and he jumped up from the chair to pace the room. “TF Industries is ready to buy. Helen thinks it’s a great idea. You gotta talk to Helen, she’ll get it all straightened out. All you gotta do is sign the paperwork.”

“Just sign the paperwork, huh?” Cave’s voice held a note of defeat.

“Sign the paperwork and you’re off scot-free,” Hale chuckled. “Leave the science stuff to us, and you walk away a rich man for life! What’s better than that?”

Cave could think of a few things better than that. His gaze fell on the half-full coffee cup beside him—he drank black coffee now, and hated it, but no one could get the cream right anymore. He didn’t answer.

Hale carried on with no notice of him. His mind was far ahead, imagining all the things Mann Co. could do with Aperture’s patented explosives. “C’mon, think about it.” Gunpowder that worked underwater. Rockets with built-in rockets. He glanced appraisingly around Cave’s office. “What’s this place worth, two hundred million? We give you that, take it off your hands, and you get to retire to some tropical beach or something. Get the hell outta Michigan. Meet some women! Get a life!”

“It’s worth a hell of a lot more than two hundred million.”

“No it ain’t, and you know it.” Saxton ambled over to the desk again, and fixed Cave with a long look. “Look, Johnson, I’m trying to do you a favor here. We’re pals. Right?”

Cave was hardly listening. His eyes wandered bleakly around the room, taking in the familiar space—the bookshelves, the sofa, the faithful liquor cabinet. Even his desk. Even his _chair_ , the plush leather chair he was sitting in. He’d kissed her in this chair.

The whole facility felt empty now. She should be here—but she was gone, and he was alone.

He rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“Fine. You got it.”

It felt like selling his soul.


	3. Chapter 3

“Attention, Aperture employees. Cave Johnson here. Listen up. I got an announcement to make, and it’s kind of a big one, so stop what you’re doing and pay attention.”

There was a pause.

“I know that in the last few years we haven’t been doing so well. Been on kind of a downturn, as it were. Stocks are down, sales are down, production is down—hell, everything’s down. That’s just the facts. And I know we’ve all been working hard to keep on doing science, but…” A sigh. “It’s time to face the music, people. We aren’t gonna get outta this one on our own. Aperture Science needs a little help.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. TF Industries made me an offer to buy this place, and I’m gonna take them up on it. That’ll make Aperture a TFi subsidiary. Unless they wanna merge it with Mann Co., which they could, but that’s a job for the legal department to work out. Now what all that means for us is that they’ll be taking care of us from now on. Financially. And bureaucratically, and whatnot. And they’re gonna be appointing a new CEO to take my place.

“Yeah, you heard that right. I’m leaving. Soon as the papers are signed, I’m done. Figure it’s about time. You all know I’ve put my heart and soul into this place from the very beginning, but—well—I don’t think Aperture needs me anymore. I figure I’ve… done enough. So TFi’s gonna take care of you from now on, and I’m gonna go off to some beach and retire, or—whatever it is old men do.

“Alright, that’s all I gotta say. Don’t go asking me about whether you’ll keep your jobs or not, ‘cause I dunno. Not my department anymore. Just hang in there while we get the paperwork sorted out, and it’ll go over just fine. Make me proud, folks. Keep doing science. That’s all.”

The message fizzled out.

A stunned silence followed. All over the facility, people failed to get back to work. Eyes stared, uncomprehending. Jaws went slack. Bodies sat down heavily as knees gave out in utter shock. Everyone knew things were bad, but this—this was _bad_.

Gazes started to meet each other, exchanging worried looks. What were they going to do?

No one saw it coming, not even with the downturn of the last few years. The boss always said it was temporary, and on some level they’d believed it—he still had that silver tongue, despite everything. Temporary, he said. Things’ll get better. They just needed to keep plugging along. Keep doing science. Apparently science wasn’t enough to save them now.

But the CEO himself giving up? That was… well, it was unthinkable. No matter how bad things got, Cave Johnson was not the kind of man to abandon ship. This was new—and scary. What could make him do it? Was he running from something? Trying to get what he could from the company and get out? Was TFi’s offer just that good? No one wanted to talk about the potential joblessness on the horizon, so everyone talked about him instead. The rumor mill was a familiar comfort. They could almost pretend it wouldn’t affect more than the man in charge as they swapped theories—escaping the law in Singapore, meeting a mistress in France—but a subtle edge of fear underlay every conversation, and every ear was pricked for the next words of their fate.

Most of Cave’s listeners resented him somewhat, as people often resent their bosses, but that didn’t mean they wanted him gone. Very few trusted him implicitly, but very few hated him also. Maybe a handful would be happier without the man.

Only three were actually planning to murder him.

But outside those three no one knew of this, and talk drifted to half-joking speculation about Soviet spies. Anything to avoid the serious questions. Maybe if they just went on as normal, everything would work out alright. Keep on doing science. But—

—in the deepest depths of the salt mine—

—in the farthest cavern the sound could reach—

—concealed in the darkest shadow—

—the thing stood waiting.

It blended seamlessly with the lurking dark, as if its body were made of pure shadow. All but its eyes. Its eyes gleamed a bright and luminous gold, piercing the blackness like rapier-points of light.

Piercing and cruel and deadly.

 

*          *          *

 

Cave Johnson took no notice. He cloistered himself in his office again, and would see no one, fully occupied with a bottle of bourbon and his own thoughts. Lately that was the only way he could think—sitting hunched on the sofa across from his desk, drink in hand, staring vacantly at the portrait of himself as he let his mind wander.

He was exhausted.

He’d done nothing that day but deliver the announcement, yet his body felt like it had run a marathon. No, worse than that—it wasn’t a muscle-tiredness, but a bone-tiredness, one that seeped into the core of him and drained his very life. _Weary_ , that was the word. Every breath was an effort. His limbs felt heavy. His heart felt numb.

As he sat in thought, he found himself plagued by questions like, what was he doing? Was his science even important? What was the point of science, anyway? What was the point of _anything?_ But he was a commonsense man, and he brushed those questions aside. Introspection and Cave Johnson were the kind of acquaintances who, when invited to the same party, stood at opposite ends of the room and pretended not to notice each other.

Eventually, Cave had it narrowed down to two real problems: (1) was it wrong for him to sell Aperture Science, and (2) if it was, was it too late to back out of it.

The answers, as he figured them, were: (1) no and (2) yes.

It was his company, wasn’t it? He owned it. And if he owned it, he could sell it, simple as that. That was just property rights.

But he couldn’t help the nagging sense that there was more to it. He’d founded Aperture, started it from scratch and built it up with his own two hands—didn’t that give him a kind of responsibility to the place? He didn’t have children, and he probably never would. Aperture Science was all the legacy he had. Was he really going to give it up for a few million dollars and a beach house?

Margaritas and bikinis, he thought, and scoffed. He didn’t even like margaritas, and fresh sea air smelled too much like dead fish for his taste. And as for the bikinis—

Well. It had been a long while since a woman caught his eye, and he doubted the skimpiest beachwear would make that change.

“ _You could use a vacation_ ,” said a lady’s voice in his head. “ _You work too hard_.”

He knew she was teasing. He also knew she was imaginary, and listening to her only made things worse. “Go ‘way,” he grumbled, and took a sip of bourbon.

“ _Lying out in the sun with a cool breeze blowing…_ ”    

“I hate vacations.”

“ _I know_.” He squeezed his eyes shut against the gentle smile that wasn’t there. “ _So why would you leave this place?_ ”

“What else am I gonna do?”

“ _Science_.” The tone would brook no argument.

“It isn’t that easy, kiddo. Look at the numbers—”

“ _Since when does Cave Johnson care about numbers? Since when does Cave Johnson give up, hm?_ ” There was that note of challenge in her voice that never failed to get him going. “ _Aperture Science does not believe in the impossible. We can do it, sir. We can turn this around. Just you watch!_ ”

The pep talk lit the faintest spark on the old tinder in his belly. He breathed into it, felt it warm him with familiar fire—it was almost enough—almost—

But not quite. On the next breath, cold reality snuffed it out.

What did she know? he thought bitterly, and drained his glass in one swallow. She was dead.

No, there was nothing wrong with selling Aperture Science, and he’d do it if he damn well wanted to.

And he did want to—which was good for him, because the sale was already in motion. Even as he sat there, the papers were being drawn up, with the help of lawyers and accountants and all manner of boring white-collar types he tried to avoid as much as possible. He’d take a last look at the agreement before signing off on it, but that was all the involvement he wanted. Time to wash his hands of the whole business. A deal was a deal.

In fact, as Cave Johnson looked at it now, everything was settled. All he had to do was sign the papers. No use worrying about it any further—best to just accept it and start planning his retirement. Hell, he was walking away with two hundred million! He’d never have to work another day in his life! That was what every man wanted, right?

Freedom, that’s what it was. Money and time added up to freedom. For the first time in decades, he would be free to do whatever he damn well pleased. No business. No responsibilities. (“ _No science_ ,” whispered that voice in his head.) Maybe he could learn to like that fresh sea air.

Stop aiming so high, Johnson, he told himself as he poured another drink. You’ll just hit the ground harder when you fall.

 

*          *          *

 

He passed the rest of the day in his office. Everyone knew better that to disturb him. At last it was evening—though you couldn’t tell, in the windowless facility—and all but the CEO got into their cars and headed home.  

The CEO himself took a walk.

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but something told him he had to, an unconscious pull that grew stronger and stronger until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. At last he rose slowly from his seat—the more-than-half-bottle of bourbon sloshing in his system was no help—and ventured out the door.

No sign of Greg in the outer office. No noise in the hall. He was alone.

This used to be his favorite time of day, alone in the facility, after the peons left at night and before they arrived in the morning. Now he had the run of the building—as he always did, of course, but it was different without a bunch of plebs underfoot. Now he was the only living soul in the place. Now it really felt like _his_.

He would only share this feeling with one person in the world. She used to love it too…

God, he needed to get out of here.

But it wasn’t that easy, leaving a place after it attached itself to you. So Cave Johnson took one last walk around his domain. A circle around the executive level, then down the great glass elevator to the lobby of the scientific wing. It always seemed a different place when its bustling marble floor was empty. His footsteps echoed as he walked, and he could’ve been the last man on earth.

He had any number of smaller elevators to choose from, each leading down to a different lab, but he ignored them for now in favor of the wide archway on the farthest wall. Through this was a wide staircase that climbed up and up until it met at a fork with its twin, which led down to the business wing. The fork was adorned with yet another portrait of Aperture’s founder. He took a long look at it as he passed, but felt only a vague disappointment at the angle of his chin—he should get this picture replaced one of these days.

Except the next time this one was replaced, it would probably be with a portrait of Saxton Hale or something.

He kept walking.

Past the fork, the two staircases merged into one that was even wider, until the great hallway at the top could’ve been a four-lane street. That hallway led to the grandest double-doors in the whole facility, which opened onto the main lobby. It was build to impress—every surface gleamed in polished marble or rich wood, and the carpets were plush red velvet underfoot. You couldn’t cast a glance in any direction without hitting an Aperture logo or five. _Aperture Science Innovators_ shone in bright gold letters above the doors, and beside them a sign proclaimed, “Bringing You the Future of Tomorrow!”

He’d been so proud of that tagline when he thought it up. He’d been proud of the whole place. Poured his heart and soul into it for nearly twenty years.

He didn’t feel proud any longer. Now he just felt tired.

Footfalls heavy even on the luxurious carpet, Cave headed back to his office.

Through the doors, down the stairs—ignoring the portrait of himself—across the lobby floor, and into the great glass elevator. He was silent in avoiding thought as he rose to the executive level. But as he approached his office, the hairs started to prickle on the back of his neck. Cave Johnson wasn’t a man to scare easily, but his instinct was warning him now.

When he came to the door marked “Cave Johnson, CEO,” he found it standing ajar. He hadn’t left it that way.

He wasn’t alone.

Cave wasn’t a fighting man, either, but he entered the office on a hair trigger. Greg’s desk lay undisturbed—but the inner office door hung open too. Cave’s hands balled into fists as he stepped inside.

Standing in front of his desk, his back to the door, was a little man.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man turned. He was not extremely little, but he stood at a height below Cave’s shoulders, and had to look up to meet his gaze. He did look up, and his face split into a wide grin. “Cave Johnson! Just the man I wanted to see!” He spoke with an accent, something British maybe, and that grin was unnerving—like someone had shaped his mouth a little too wide for his face.

“How’d you get in here?” Cave’s words came out in a snarl.

“I’ve just been admiring your office,” the man continued in a chummy tone, ignoring Cave’s questions. “Lovely place, really impressive. Portrait’s a nice touch.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the picture on the wall.

“What the hell—”

“I did want to ask you, being a man of science and all—” A hand slipped into the pocket of his oversized lab coat. “—Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?”

“Wh—”

But before Cave could get out another word, the hand with the rag was in his face. He shoved it away, knocking both of them off-balance, and lunged at his attacked.

Apparently resistance was not part of the plan. The little man’s eyes went wide. “Grab him! _Grab him!_ ” he shouted wildly as Cave’s fist closed on his collar—and Cave felt much larger hands grip his arms from behind. Unnatural strength grappled him to the ground, a sharp stink filled his nose, the world swam, and he knew no more.

 

*          *          *

 

He awoke hanging in midair.

When he realized this, a moment after he came to consciousness, he jerked violently in a panic—but the cords around his body held him tight. They bound his wrists and ankles, and a makeshift harness was lashed around his waist so he could be pulled up and down on the rope attached.

And he was being pulled down. Down, and down, and down, into darkness.

“Looks like the boss-man here’s awake!” a voice called from above.

“Alright! Well hurry up and get him down!” another responded from below, and Cave recognized the voice of his captor. He looked down—and down, and down, and felt a bit sick—but far below he could see the ground, and the little man peering up at him by the light of a battery-powered lantern. “Sorry for the discomfort, Mr. Johnson! You’ll be out again in a minute!”

“What the hell d’you mean by that?” was what he tried to say, but it came out too muffled to hear. That was probably due to the thick ball of fabric in his mouth. He bit and spat against it, but the gag was tied tight. “Get this thing off me!” But of course it came out as “Mmmm-mmmph!”

Cave Johnson deprived of his silver tongue was not a happy man.

But his kicking and struggling were in vain, resulting in barely a jolt on the rope as the unseen person above lowered him down to the little man below. Down and down and down, and he could see the ground nearing. It looked like a cave floor. In fact, the whole place looked like a cave. Where the hell had these maniacs taken him?

“Quit bouncing him around!” the little man snapped, noticing the jostling.

“I’m not doin’ anything!” There was that voice from above again. “He’s goin’ at it like a worm on a hook!”

“Well make him stop!”

“How’m I supposed to do that?”

“ _Mmmmph!_ ”

“Just hold still, Mr. Johnson, you’ll be down in no time!” The man shifted impatiently from foot to foot. “Don’t want you getting hurt up there!”

A third voice spoke up from somewhere near the man on the ground. “Damaging the human at this juncture will not negatively impact the mission.” Squinting through the darkness, Cave could make out a shape—another man, standing a few feet away, just outside the ring of lantern-light.

The first man glared in his direction. “Yes it bloody will, alright? _Damaging the human_ is not in this part of the plan, so keep quiet and help get him down.”

But the new speaker wouldn’t keep quiet. “It would be more efficient to kill the human now and then dispose of the body.”

“Just help untie him.” Cave was nearing the ground now.

“Carrying the live human is a waste of time and effort. Killing him and dropping him down the mine shaft is much more practical.”

“Well we’re not gonna do that yet, are we Craig?” The first man turned on his companion, apparently named Craig, in annoyance.

“The event is unlikely,” Craig responded.

“And d’you know why?”

“The Intelligence Core is stubborn and foolhardy, and will not listen to—”

“ _Will you stop that?_ ”

“—to the better judgment of the Fact Core.”

“ _No_ , Craig, we’re not gonna do it because _it’s not in the plan_. The plan is to get him down the mine shaft and _then_ kill him. Got that? That’s what we’re gonna do, ‘cause that’s the plan. Okay? Can we continue the kidnapping now?”

Craig lapsed into sullen silence.

“Right. When he gets down here, you untie him, and—”

“There is a ninety-seven point eight-one-six percent chance this plan will fail.”

“Oh for—”

But Cave had stopped listening. _Mine shaft_. Of course! The old mine below the facility! They hadn’t gone far at all! As soon as Greg and the boys realized what happened, they could have a rescue here in no time. But… he had no idea how long he’d been out. It would be all night before they found him missing, at least. And then how would they know to look for him here? And these old tunnels were never mapped, not that Cave knew of…

He could be lost down here for ages. With three men who wanted to kill him.

“Hey!” The voice above cut through the pair’s bickering. “Quit yappin’ and get him down! I’m not gonna hold this thing forever!”

And finally their captive hung within reach. Cave flinched as thin fingers, Craig’s presumably, came from behind and untied him—but made no effort to hold him up. He fell the last two feet and hit the ground with an unceremonious thud.

“He’s down!” the first man called up.

“Good! Be there in a sec!” was the response, followed by a scrabbling sound. Apparently the third voice was going to join them.

Cave grunted and rolled halfway over on his side, lifting his face from the rough stone floor. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but at least he could finally get a good look at his kidnappers. The first man was closest—he had shed the lab coat, wearing an orange testing jumpsuit instead, but in the lamplight Cave recognized the short, coppery curls of his hair. He was small and round, with a round snub nose to match his chubby face. It wasn’t a threatening face, but something about it seemed off, and it made Cave uneasy. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why—and that just made it worse.

Maybe the skin of his forehead was pulled on just a little too tight. Maybe that wide grin, stuck in his mind from before, showed a few too many teeth. Whatever it was, just looking at the guy set Cave on edge.

He pulled his eyes away and searched for his other captor somewhere in the shadows behind him. What he saw would’ve made his jaw drop if it weren’t stuffed with the gag already. The man half-lit by the lantern was thin as a wire, and taller than his companion, though that wasn’t saying much—probably an inch or two shorter than Cave if he were standing—but the striking thing about him was his skin. It was white. Not pale, _white_ , whiter than the belly of a fish. His reedy build and that skin made him look like a walking corpse. And there was something strange about his voice, too—something stiff and unnatural in the precision of his sentences. He almost sounded like a machine.

“The landing is a doozy,” said the skeletal man in that artificial tone, looking up at the third figure about to join them. Cave looked up too, in time to see a bulky shape emerge from the shadows, rappelling down the line they’d just released him from, growing slowly larger as it neared—larger and larger and larger—Cave’s eyes went wide. He was a giant, seven feet tall if he was an inch, and his massive form was built of solid muscle.

And he was… humming?

“Dundundun-DUN-DUN-dundundun-DUN-DUN-DUN-swingin’-into-danger-nanana-climbin’-down-a-cave-danana-DUN-DUN—DUN!”

He jumped the last few feet and finished with a flourish as he thudded down on the cave floor. Straightening up, he stood head and shoulders above the other two. He was wearing his jumpsuit as pants, with the sleeves tied around his waist and nothing but an undershirt on above, and Cave could see a scar running down the length of the brawny bare arm closest to him. It didn’t look like any scar he’d seen before, though. It was a clean line, barely puckered at all, and the scar tissue was the same dead white as Craig’s skin.

Something about these men was very, very wrong.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” the newcomer drawled. “Where is he?” The first man pointed to their captive on the floor, and the newcomer grabbed him easily in huge hands—Cave squirmed and struggled, but it did no good. The big man swung him up over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. “Hey Wheat, you gonna put him out again? Or should I just hit him?”

“I’ll do it.” The little man, whose full name was Wheatley, stepped forward with the rag in his hand. Cave fixed him with the most withering glare he could muster.

It worked. (Never underestimate the power of a glare from Cave Johnson.)

Wheatley fell back a little, his expression almost contrite. “Look mate, I’m sorry about this, but we’re just doing a job, okay? We got pulled out of the scrap heap for the express purpose of dumping you in some pit down here, and unless we want to get cut up for spare parts we’ve gotta make sure you don’t get out of here alive. Nothing personal. Just doing our jobs. Now unless you want a word with those Black Mesa fellows—”

“ _MMM-MMMMPH!_ ” Cave’s face went purple, and he thrashed against his captor’s grip. _Of course_ those bastards were behind this! Those rotten cheating science-stealing—

“Hey, easy now—”

“You sure you should be tellin’ him all that?” said the big man doubtfully, holding his prisoner still with no effort at all.

“What’s the harm? Not like he’s gonna tell anyone else.” The rag knotted and unknotted in Wheatley’s hands. “I think he should know that we’re just a couple of robots doing our job. And we’re not gonna kill you yet, but when you do, no hard feelings. Right?”

“ _Mmph_.”

“C’mon, let’s get goin’.” The big man, whose name was Rick, has his gaze turned over his shoulder, back up the shaft they’d just climbed down. He looked in a hurry to get away. 

“Yeah, alright,” said Wheatley. The rag came up again. “Goodnight, Mr. Johnson. Pleasant dreams.”

And Cave was in darkness again.

 

*          *          *

 

His head swam as he came to consciousness the second time. It was still dark, apart from the light of the single lamp up ahead, and giant Rick was still toting him along at the rear. And still doing that sing-songy thing under his breath.

“Dundundun-DUN-DUN-dundundundun-DUN-DUN-dundundun-DUN-DUN-DUN—”

Craig glanced back to shoot him a disapproving scowl. “The Adventure Core’s theme music is stupid.”

Rick gave him a glare in return. “Nobody asked you, Pinkie.”

“The Adventure Core is not designed to produce music, and his attempts at it are pathetic.”

“Yeah? Well the Fact Core’s facts are dumb, so shove it.”

“The Fact Core’s facts are very useful and one hundred percent accurate. The Fact Core is also the most attractive and personable of the artificial life forms on this mission—”

“ _Shh-shh-shh!_ ”

Rick froze abruptly with a finger to his lips. His green eyes, almost luminous with reflected lamplight, darted about as if trying to catch something in his peripheral vision.

“Did you hear that?”

“No.” Craig looked unimpressed. But Cave had heard it too—a barely-audible scrabbling noise somewhere in the darkness behind them. He tried to tell himself it was only a rat, but the look on Rick’s face made his stomach sink.

“Pinkie, somethin’s followin’ us.”

“The Adventure Core is reporting inaccurately.”

“I’m tellin’ you I _saw_ somethin’ back there. Didn’t say nothin’ ‘cause I thought we could lose it, but it’s still comin’ after us. It had these eyes…”

“Your sensory analysis is faulty because you are nervous.”

“Like hell I am!” But Craig was right. It would take a lot to unsettle a man—a _machine_ —of Rick’s size, but whatever was back there had him on pins and needles. “Listen, you scrap heap—”

And then they both froze.

The hair rose on the back of Cave’s neck again as both androids looked behind them. They were climbing a craggy incline now, and outside the circle of lamplight the slope sank into blackness.

And in the blackness, far below, gleamed a flicker of gold.

Craig’s reddish-pink eyes were as wide as Rick’s green ones when their gazes met. “Something is back there.”

“Oi! Are you two coming, or what?”

Up ahead, Wheatley had noticed his companions lagging. They looked at him, then back at each other. Rick said, “I think we got ourselves a problem.”

“Come on, we’ve gotta keep moving!”

Craig said, “We are being followed.”

“ _That_ is _inconceivable_.” Wheatley retorted, his voice sharp with annoyance. “There’s nothing down here but rocks and us. Now let’s _go_.”

The two androids followed reluctantly, but Cave wasn’t satisfied. He peered cautiously around Rick’s shoulder, out and down into the blackness below, searching for that gleam of gold—

And there it was. Just a glimmer, far below, like a distant star—but it was there. And it was moving. It bobbed and weaved in the darkness, and with its movement came that low scrabbling sound, as of something clambering up the rocks.

It was moving just a little faster than they were.

The party proceeded wordlessly up the slope, the silence only broken by their footsteps, but Rick and Craig were still on edge. Every so often a noise of falling pebbles from behind would make them freeze or dart their eyes backwards. At last Craig spoke up. “How do you know that it is inconceivable?”

“What?” Wheatley glanced back at him.

“How does the Intelligence Core know that being followed is inconceivable?”

The questions were clearly pushing Wheatley towards the edge. “I just know, okay?” he growled. “You just said it—I’m the Intelligence Core. I’m intelligent. _It’s what I do_. What _you_ do is supposed to be facts, but apparently you’re not doing facts, because it is _absolutely inconceivable_ that anything could be following us!”

“Absolutely inconceivable?”

“Absolutely, totally inconceivable.”

“Fact: the Intelligence Core is incorrect.”

“ _Augh!_ ”

Wheatley looked ready to hit Craig in the face—or at least kick his shins—but Rick interrupted before a fight could break out. Staring out into the dark, he said, “Hey, genius? I think you better take a look at this.”

The thing was catching up.

One point of light had separated into two, a pair of gleaming eyes in the void, and as it closed in the prowling shadow resolved itself into a form. Cave could barely make out a solid shape—a slender form that stood on two legs, and the round dome of a head sporting those eyes. The shape moved at a steady pace, shambling up the slope after them. Getting closer.

Craig repeated, “We are being followed.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Wheatley chuckled nervously and started to walk faster. “It’s nothing. Just a trick of the light. Let’s keep moving.”

“If that’s a trick of the light, I’m a can opener.”

“ _Keep moving_.”

The trio picked up their pace as they climbed, but the thing behind was faster. Cave watched it nearing with cold fear in his belly. Maybe he was tied up in the hands of three robots who wanted to kill him, but his instinct said he was better off with them than with that thing back there. He swallowed hard against his fear and hoped Rick was a good runner.

At last they came to the top of the slope—where they discovered it was a dead end. Cave’s heart leaped into his throat. The rocky ground where they stood ended in a sheer drop into a chasm that looked black and bottomless. On the far side they could see a high ledge, but no way to get there. And the thing was approaching fast.

“Okay. Okay, what do we do?” Wheatley’s words were tinged with panic. As he hemmed and hawed in thought, his bright blue eyes flicked around the cavern, assessing the situation. Craig opened his mouth—but Wheatley cut him off before he could speak. “Got it. Rick, you throw the rope over there and get it hooked onto one of those pointy rock things. Then you carry the rest of us up. You can do that, right?”

“The Adventure Core cannot—”

“You bet I can!” Rick was grinning now. He had a task before him, a dangerous and Herculean task, and there was nothing he liked better. He grabbed the length of cord hanging at his waist, tied it into an expert lasso, and flung it across. All four watched it fly with baited breath.

It missed. The loop fell just short of the closest rock formation and disappeared into the darkness below. “Dammit,” Rick hissed, and reeled it back as quick as he could. No one needed to look to know that the thing was gaining. But the lasso was in Rick’s hand again, and again he let fly—

And this time it caught and held. Wheatley let out a sigh of relief, and Rick laughed in triumph. “That’s more like it! Everybody up!”

Cave was shifted to hang over one shoulder, and Rick slung Wheatley over the other. Craig, looking doubtful, wrapped his arms around the big man’s neck. “You are going to get us killed.”

Rick only grinned wider. “Watch me, Pinky.”

Drawing the rope taut, he gave it one last tug to test it, took a step back, and swung out into space.

“OhgodohgodohgodOHGODOHGOD—” “Aaaaaaaaa _aaaaaaahhhhhh_ —” “MMMMMMMMMPH—” “GERONIMOOOOOOOOOO!”

And Rick’s boots thudded solidly onto the opposite wall.

He let out a whoop. “Told ya!”

“ _Climb_.” The voice was Craig’s, and it was as taut with strain as the rope holding them up.

Rick looked up—and up, and up, and up—five hundred feet up at least, and who knows how many miles in the infinite drop below. For a normal man it would be impossible—but Rick was no normal man. And so he climbed.

Hand over hand he climbed, higher and higher, muscles of corded steel flexing and pulling beneath artificial skin. Hand over hand, higher and higher, with an unknown threat at his back and certain death at his feet. The others fought not to tremble in fear, but Rick was an Adventure Core, designed for danger, and he was in his element.

Hand over hand, higher and higher. Four hundred feet to go.

Hanging upside down over Rick’s shoulder, Cave found the thing’s eyes gleaming in the dark behind them. He saw the thing emerge from the blackness to stand on the edge of the chasm, looking up, up, up at the climber and his cargo. It was still barely visible in the receding lamplight, but he could feel its eyes on them. Whatever it was, though, they were safe from it now—it had no way to follow them. It could never get across.

Perhaps it knew that too. As he watched, it backed away from the edge, growing smaller and dimmer in the vanishing light. Soon its eyes were again mere pinpricks in the darkness.

And still Rick climbed. Higher and higher, hand over hand. Three hundred feet—and Rick was doing his theme music again. “Dundundun-dundundun-DUN—dundundun-dundundun-DUN—climbin’-up-a-mountain—dundundun-DUN—”

And then with a flash the thing was back, moving faster than ever, sprinting towards the edge of the cliff at an inhuman speed—Cave’s eyes went huge and he let out a yell—and the thing _jumped_ —

They all felt the tug on the rope as another body grabbed on. “Whazzat?” Rick grunted.

“ _Climb_ ,” Craig hissed again.

Wheatley said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the top.

But they were past two hundred feet—”Hangin-by-our-fingers—dundun-DUN-DUN-DUN”—and almost there. Cave could look up and see the edge nearing. He could look down, too, but he didn’t want to. The thing was close behind.

“It is moving at a faster rate than we are.” Craig attempted to sound calm, and failed.

“Maybe that’s ‘cause it ain’t carryin’ a bunch of freeloaders,” Rick paused his song to retort. But he redoubled his efforts, and they rose faster.

A hundred feet to go.

“Come on, _come on_ ,” Wheatley muttered, and Cave felt like doing the same. He couldn’t control the morbid curiosity any longer. He glanced down.

A dizzying drop into blackness, pierced by a pair of golden eyes—pupil-less, glowing, and growing closer by the second.

Cave let his gag muffle a moan. _Come on_.

And then Rick’s massive arms hefted them over the edge, and they were there. Cave heaved a sigh of relief as the android dropped him on solid ground.

But they weren’t safe yet, not with their pursuer close behind. “ _Cut it, cut it, cut it_ —” Wheatley yelped—a long knife appeared from Rick’s boot—and in one swift slice the rope was severed in two. Cave watched as the end whipped like a live thing over the edge and into the abyss.

Then all four of them breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever it was, it was gone. It had to be.

But they had to make sure.

Leaving the human where he lay on the ground, the three androids tiptoed forward and slowly, slowly peered over the edge.

A dark shape clung to the cliff face three hundred feet below.

Wheatley breathed, “ _Inconceivable_.”

“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.” The other two stayed to watch, but Wheatley turned away.

“That thing’s some climber,” Rick said, impressed.

“Pick him up. We’ve gotta get moving.”

But now that Rick could see their adversary clearly, his apprehension melted away. “Aw, I can stay and take care of it. It’s only a little bitty thing.”

“You need to carry the human. Come on.”

“Somebody’s gotta make sure it doesn’t follow us, right?”

Wheatley the leader made a snap decision. “Craig, you stay. Get rid of it however you can.”

Craig’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “The Fact Core is not designed for combat—”

“So don’t combat it, just—I dunno, talk it to death. You’ll think of something.” Wheatley went to the captive and grabbed his bound wrists, but couldn’t move him an inch on his own. “C’mon, Rick, we’ve gotta go.”

Rick, though, looked doubtful. “You gonna be okay, Pinkie?”

Craig was quiet for a moment. Reddish-pink eyes met green ones. “Yes. I will be okay.”

Rick clapped him on the shoulder—making him stagger a little under the blow—and offered a smile. “Catch up to us when you can, huh?

“Yes.”

“And tell me all about it.”

The smile looked forced on Craig’s thin face, but he returned it anyway. “I will.”

And so it was decided. Turning away, Rick swung the hostage up over his shoulders again, and moved to follow Wheatley down the tunnel ahead. “See ya in a bit!” And off they went.

Craig watched his companions disappear in the distance, getting smaller and further until at last they turned a corner and the lamp winked out. He was in darkness, and he was alone.

No—not quite alone.

Pulling a small flashlight from the pocket of his jumpsuit, he approached the edge again and peered down, down, down.

The thing below was climbing.


	4. Chapter 4

Craig watched the dark shape’s approach with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Three hundred feet below, it seemed to rest on the stone as lightly as a fly on a wall. For something of that size—much bigger than a fly—it shouldn’t have been possible. His gaze focused in, and he could just make out a pair of spidery hands reaching up, feeling out even the tiniest cracks in the rock, and then ramming fingers in like grappling hooks to support its ascent. It was quite literally hanging on by its fingertips.

What kind of phenomenal strength did that require? Getting an up-close look at the creature would be an incredible experience. Assuming he lived through it.

A flash of anxiety shivered through Craig’s frame, making his cooling fans hum with unease. His mouth twitched into a grim smile. It was a strange sort of comfort to know that as an android he could still feel fear. Even in a body built of silicon and steel, he still had his mind. He was a person, not a machine. Wasn’t he?

 

### The Fact Core

The Aperture Science Archive and Research Library was the most unique collection of scientific knowledge in the world. Begun by the CEO’s former secretary, after she insisted that a simple file room just wouldn’t do any longer, it had grown under her care into a place that turned museums and major universities green with envy. In addition to a vast body of scientific literature, every discovery and invention ever made in the Aperture labs was kept neatly on file, complete with diagrams, formulas, notes—all the information a researcher could want, available right at their fingertips. It was like having the company’s brain laid open for study.  

Because of this, being a member of the archive staff was a prestigious position indeed, and was taken very seriously. At least, that was the idea. In reality the place had fallen off Cave Johnson’s radar after his secretary’s unfortunate accident—the new head archivist couldn’t care less about actually spending time in the archive, preferring to take spur-of-the-moment vacations on his generous salary, and one of his two assistants felt the same.

The other assistant was Craig.

The rest of the company might disregard it, but to Craig the place was a haven, and no one knew or cared for it like he did. He spent every day there. He had the layout memorized right down to the orders of books and file headings, and he could find the most obscure scrap of information without batting an eye. With Craig around, his boss and his coworker never had to lift a finger between them. Craig didn’t feel taken advantage of in the least—indeed he preferred it that way. Other people in his precious archive would only get underfoot.

In his free time, he read. He read, and read, and read. Nothing made him happier than immersing himself in piles of books and lab reports for hours on end. His plan was to work his way through the entire collection bit by bit, slowly and methodically, in sections—it was an insane idea, but if anyone could do it, it was Craig.

In fact, he loathed the interruptions of people who actually wanted to use the archive. They were a distraction. He had no patience for them when his mind was swimming in facts and figures. If someone came in while he was reading—which was nearly all the time, since the archive didn’t take much to maintain—he would tear his eyes from the page, look down his long nose at the intruder, push his glasses up, and dare them to explain themselves with a clipped and disapproving, “Can I help you?”

Usually it was some scientist who wasn’t intimidated in the least by a self-important assistant archivist, but sometimes he got lucky and scared off somebody’s temp sent on an errand. Sometimes he got particularly unlucky, and it was a bored security guard trying to pester him for fun, but even they usually tired of him before long. For the most part, he was left in peace to read his facts.

Facts were his great passion. So much of science was hypothesis and speculation, but facts were solid. With facts, you could be sure of where you stood. And of course it felt good to know things—especially things other people didn’t know. Craig wanted to know it all.

So he spent his days in the archives, for the most part happy—happiest when he had his nose in a book or a thick folder of lab reports. Yes, he had to deal with the occasional person disturbing his space, but full access to the archive was worth that price. He could deal with a few bossy scientists and annoying security guards. But one day the disturbance was something else.

“Excuse me?”       

The light, feminine voice was new to Craig’s ears. He frowned even before looking up. His face went into the normal routine—squeeze eyes shut, small but long-suffering sigh, turn to look down his nose at the unwelcome guest—but as he did, his eyes fell on something unusual.

She didn’t look like one of the scientists. She wore a lab coat, and a lanyard with employee ID hung around her neck, but there was a focused precision about her that was rare in his fellow employees. It put Craig on edge, and it fascinated him. This woman was all business.

She looked at him expectantly through her horn-rimmed glasses, and the usual ice cracked in his voice as he said, “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for information on heavy artillery.”

Huh. “Right this way.”

He led her to the shelf, and she said barely a word of thanks before grabbing a binder and diving in. Whatever she was there for, she seemed to have a genuine interest in the stuff. Her eyes devoured page after page, flickering like lightning across words and schematics as her hand scribbled notes on a small pad, moving with a meticulous purpose that astounded him. He’d never seen such an avid researcher, apart from himself—and as she asked for file after file, he felt an odd sense of kinship form between them. Here was somebody who appreciated facts.

Hours flew by like seconds as she pored over the growing stack of books and papers he fetched for her. At first he tried to continue his own reading in between her requests for things, but her presence drew his attention away from his studies, and he soon became immersed in helping with her search. He knew exactly what to look for, pulling things from the shelves almost before she asked for them. When he finally noticed the clock, it was time to close for the afternoon.

He had her help in re-shelving the massive pile of documents she’d accumulated, and as they finished, she offered him a thin but sincere smile. “Thank you. Will you be here on Thursday?”

“I’m always here.”

“Good.” And her heels clicked against the floor as she left the room.

His eyes followed her out with raised eyebrows. Whoever she was, he wouldn’t mind her interrupting again.

It became a routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday, at eleven o’clock exactly, she would come into the archive after something new. “Explosives, please.” “Automated defense systems?”

“Right this way.”

And a quiet sort of friendship developed in the dusty silence of the archive. Their conversation was almost nonexistent, but every so often Craig would supplement her stack of research with a related book that he himself found interesting, or thought was relevant. She always thanked him for that. And, surprisingly, Craig found he didn’t mind sharing his tranquil reading space with a fellow seeker of knowledge. He almost enjoyed the company.

It went on like this for two months, until at last she’d gone through everything of interest in first-level clearance. She seemed surprised to come to the end of it. “Is that all?”

“The rest is only available with Tier-2 security clearance.”

“Which I have.” She held up her ID, and he realized he’d never taken a good look at it before. The orange Tier-2 clearance sticker was obvious beside her name— _P. Holland, Robotics_. He wondered what P. stood for. “May I see the rest now?”

“Of course. Right this way.”

He led her through the maze of shelves to a stairwell at the back. Down they went to the second level. As he punched in the key code on the locked door, she glanced back at the stairs, which led continued down and out of sight. “What’s down there?”

“That is the Tier-3 clearance section. Only open to Cave Johnson and the few others he selects himself.” Craig pressed the enter key as he answered, and pushed open the door. “This way.” He didn’t notice the way her eyes trailed down the stairs as she followed him inside.

The Tier-2 level was smaller than the level above, and its low ceiling made it feel cramped and claustrophobic. Even though it was tied to the same ventilation system as the main archive, it smelled stale and musty. It was less well-maintained, too—Craig ran a finger over a row of dusty spines and resolved to clean down here more often.

Ms. P. Holland didn’t seem to notice the state of the place, though. Beneath her usual composure, she held down an almost frenetic energy. Her eyes flicked down the labels on the shelves. “I think I can find what I need from here. Thanks.” She strode ahead of him, and disappeared down an aisle.

It was frowned upon to leave people in the archive unsupervised, but she didn’t need his help from here, and the dust really was atrocious. “I’ll be right back if you need me,” he said after her, and headed upstairs again for a dust rag. It wouldn’t do to leave the place in this state. He returned a few minutes later and busied himself with the untended shelves, listening to the quiet scuffle of her choosing files and turning pages, until—

Until he noticed a strange noise coming from her direction. He frowned. That didn’t sound like reading. Turning to track the noise, he approached cautiously through the shelves, listening as he did. It was a barely audible zip—and a click—followed by a flash of light just visible through the books. After a moment it happened again, and again—zip-click-flash, zip-click-flash, in the quick but steady rhythm of someone doing an important job in a hurry. What was going on here?

But his footsteps warned her of his approach. He peered around a shelf in time to see her shove something into the pocket of her lab coat. It was small and silver, but he glimpsed no more than that. “Ms. Holland?”

She looked up too quickly. “Yes?” Her calm demeanor just barely cracked—her tone was perfect, but he could sense her humming with tension.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, I just finished. Thank you very much for your help.” She brushed past him, intent on the door.

“Ms. Holland, taking pictures is prohibited in this section—”

“I wasn’t taking pictures, what gave you that idea?” She didn’t stop walking.

“Ms. Holland—”

“I’m sorry, I’m really in a hurry, I need to get back—”

“Ms. Holland!”

She broke into a run. He sprinted after her, but she beat him up the stairs—his longer legs were strangers to exercise, and she was apparently faster than she looked. As he emerged from the stairwell, she was already at the door.

“Please, Ms. Holland—”

“Goodbye!” she called over her shoulder, and escaped.

He stumbled to a halt as she got away, and bent double with his hands on his knees as he panted to catch his breath. What on earth was that about?

Oh well. It probably wouldn’t do any harm. Trying to put the worry from his mind, he went back down to return her documents to the shelves. She’d been specific in her search—diagrams of Aperture’s most advanced prototype weaponry littered the floor. Definitely things that shouldn’t leave the archive. But even if she did get pictures, she would make sure to keep them safe. She did have Tier-2 clearance for a reason. She was trustworthy.

Right?

For the first time he wondered why a young lady like her was so interested in missiles and guns. He distracted himself with tidying up, taking time to clean and dust as he re-shelved the files, trying a little too hard to keep his mind off his mysterious visitor. Anxiety lingered as a knot in his stomach.

A few hours later, as he was about to leave, the PA system crackled to life. That in itself was strange—no one ever called down here, not even the CEO. Craig’s ears pricked.

“Craig Van Epps, please report to Robotics. Craig Van Epps to Robotics.”

Huh. Maybe that was Ms. Holland wanting to apologize. He shrugged on his jacket and locked the door behind him as he left, then headed over to the robotics lab. One of the elevators in the lobby took him down—but when he stepped out, the place seemed weirdly deserted. “Hello?” No answer. He ventured across the room and poked his head through the next door. “Is anyone here?”

And then they jumped him.

He registered movement, and then pain, and the next thing he knew he was pinned on the ground with the world blurring around him. The last thing he heard was a voice saying, “I’m sorry, Mr. Van Epps, but science is science.”

Then everything went black.

The newly-created Fact Core had little memory of this. The things he could recall were disjointed and hazy—glimpses of images, scraps of sound, or an emotional sensation with barely any recollection of what it connected to—as if remembering a dream that didn’t quite make sense. He was damaged in the transfer, they said, whatever that meant. His thoughts felt rickety and disjointed. He went back to his facts like a reflex, spouting them off rapid-fire to make sure they were still there—

“Rats cannot throw up. The atomic weight of Germanium is seven two point six four. Cellular phones will not give you cancer. Only hepatitis.”

But that didn’t sound right. That wasn’t right.

“Error. Error. Fact not found. The square root of rope is string. The planet Biro is inhabited by lost ballpoint pens—pens—pens—pens—”

They called him defective and shut him off.

 

*          *          *

 

The thing was only two hundred feet down now, and steadily rising, but it looked like slow going from Craig’s vantage point at the top. He began to pace restlessly. If certain death was coming for him, he wished it would hurry up.

How was he supposed to get rid of this unknown adversary anyway? Rick was the fighter, not him. He could barely throw a punch—and judging by what they’d seen of it already, he’d need a lot more than one punch to take this creature out. Maybe violence wasn’t the answer, then. What had Wheatley said? Talk it to death?

He needed a decent plan, and he needed it fast.

But it was hard to think with the scratching and scrabbling of his pursuer growing ever closer. The sounds echoed off the walls in the otherwise silent cave, and in his mind spidery fingers crept out of the shadows towards him—long, strong fingers that might even snap a titanium neck. He dismissed the thought as ridiculous, but prickling fear shivered down his spine nonetheless.

Leaving his adversary in the unknown darkness made the wait worse. He stopped pacing and peered over again. The climber didn’t seem to be tiring at all, still rising at a steady pace—but the ascent wasn’t easy. Find a crevice in the rock, jam its fingers in deep, hoist itself up a few inches, repeat. It must have incredible stamina to match its incredible strength. He focused in closer, trying to see more than just a black shape in the darkness, but all he could make out was a humanoid figure and those hands climbing. Closer and closer, slowly but steadily, a silent nightmare creeping up to wrap its grip around his throat—

“I see you up there.”

Craig’s heart froze—or it would have, if he’d had a heart in his metal chest. At the sound he darted back from the cliff’s edge so that only his eyes peeped over. What—

“Yes, you, four-eyes. No point in hiding. I see you, and you see me.”

Was it _talking?_

“I know you’ve put a lot of effort into glaring me to death, and it’s working _impressively_ so far—” The shadow hauled itself up another few inches. “—But maybe there’s a better way to waste your time?”

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or even more terrified. If it was intelligent, maybe he could reason with it, convince it not to pop his head off like a cherry off a stem—but if it wanted whatever it was after this badly, he’d need to do heavy convincing.

“No answer?”

Craig stayed silent. Peering down into the dark, he found the two pinpricks of gold. He couldn’t make out a face, but those eyes glared back at him like tiny, malevolent stars. The voice continued, “That’s funny. You sounded chatty with the others. I heard you talking, you know. I know they left you alone up there.” Its tone held an insinuated threat that sent a chill down Craig’s spine. Each word dropped deliberately, hitting like stones. “They left _you—alone_ —to get rid of _me_. Some friends they must be, hm?”

But he didn’t rise to the attack. At the lack of response, the voice sighed. “Alright then. Let me keep talking to myself. But if you’re just going to stand around up there, get comfortable. I’m not built for climbing. And neither is this wall,” it added, fingers scrabbling audibly to find purchase on the rocks.

Reason with it. _Reason_ with it. He still had a few minutes. Craig thought quickly, and said: “This cliff face rises at an angle of ninety-two degrees.”

“What?”

“This cliff face rises at an angle of ninety-two degrees,” he repeated. “A sheer drop of this magnitude is virtually impossible to scale unaided.”

“ _Virtually_ ,” the climber echoed, with a bite in the word.

“A climber attempting to scale it has a ninety-nine-point-zero-three percent chance of failure.”

“See? That’s not impossible. Don’t be such a pessimist.”

The words rankled, mocking him, but Craig kept on. “The floor of this pit is lined with stalagmites that form natural stone spikes. If a person were to fall on them from this height, they would die instantly.”

“You are determined to dissuade me, aren’t you?”

“I am merely stating facts.”

“Instead of doing something useful?”

The Fact Core bristled. “Facts are always useful. These are statistics that all cavegoers should know. For instance: the Aperture salt mine is famous for its bottomless pits. This is one of them.”

“You’re making that up.”

“Inaccuracy is inconceivable.” Unlike some androids, _he_ could use the word correctly.

The voice paused for a moment. “So which is it?”

“Which is what?”

“You said this pit has spikes at the bottom, and then you said it was bottomless,” the voice explained with patronizing patience. “It can’t be both. So which is it?”

As Craig registered the contradiction, a jolt of pain shot through him, like a bolt of lightning through his brain. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut against it, and his mind lashed out immediately to prove the voice wrong. It had to be wrong. He wouldn’t make a mistake like that—

“You need to fact-check your facts.”

But with the voice’s words, the burning, throbbing pain intensified. He opened his mouth to argue, but only stuttering static came out. “E—e—e—e—”

“What was that?”

A wave of dizziness hit, making him sway dangerously near the edge. “E-e-error. Fact not found.”

“ _What?_ ”

His head swam. Against his will, the automatic message continued, “Error—error—”

The shadow went quiet again, and then murmured, “ _Oh_.” The syllable dripped with predatory significance. “That’s _interesting_.”

Craig stumbled back from the cliff, fighting to think around the agony. Perhaps if—if it was only bottomless in _places_ , and in other places it had outcroppings where the stalagmites were—yes, that made sense— _But then those outcroppings aren’t the bottom_ , his logic tried to counter, but he strained not to think about that—yes, it made sense, and as he resolved it the pain began to ebb away. He took a moment to steady himself, resting his hands on his knees until the vertigo subsided, head still aching dully as he let it drop.

And unnoticed by him, a moving shadow clambered up over the side of the cliff, sighted its yellow eyes on the android, coiled itself up, and _sprang_ —

Craig looked just in time to see it leap at his face.

He swung out wildly with the hand holding the flashlight, catching it across the head, enough to knock it aside. It landed in a half-crouch, and as he stumbled clear of it, Craig got a good look at his adversary for the first time.

The lanky figure straightened to stand at about his height, its bald dome of a skull lifting towards him, pinning him with those luminous eyes. And they _were_ luminous—twin lightbulbs in dark round sockets that glowed in its unearthly face. The rest of its head was featureless and smooth—no nose, no ears, no brows or cheekbones—nothing but those two round eye sockets, and a black hole where a mouth should be. Where his flashlight found its surface, it showed dull white like exposed bone.

It was humanoid, but nowhere near human. In fact—

“That’s right, take a good long look,” the android drawled. Shutters in its eye sockets half-closed to emulate a sardonic expression. “This nice antique finish is cave grime, if you wanted to know.”

Its carapace was covered in dirt and scratches, evidence that it had survived a long time down here in the depths of the mine, and Craig had no doubt that those long, strong fingers could do heavy damage even to an artificial body. It stepped leisurely forward, and he backed away. The zipping sound of mechanics in motion followed its every move.

“Gone mute again, Mr. Error Message?”

Craig’s head still buzzed, but he fought the sensation to think. “You—a-a-a-are—f-following us.”

“Good observation.” Sarcasm dripped from its voice like acid.

It took another step towards him, and he scrambled back, groping for words, any words. “Not by—co—co-incidence. You are fol-low-ing us—for a reason.”

“ _Very_ good. Your intellect is astounding.” Craig opened his mouth to stammer a retort, but the mocking voice cut him off. “You are traveling with something I need.”

“I have n-n-nothing—the others—”

“I will get what I came for. And _you_ are in my way.” Before he could move, before he could think, the stranger barked—“Disobey this command.”

A second bolt of pain lanced through his skull. His stammer became a high-pitched scratch like a broken record, unearthly coming from a human-like throat, as his brain automatically followed the logic in a loop—ignoring it meant obeying it, to obey it was to ignore it—

“ _Disobey this command_ ,” the thing ordered again, closing in on him like a cat on a wounded bird, and Craig felt his legs tremble as they threatened to give out. “You can’t, can you?”

“E-e-e-e-e—”

The stutter earned a derisive chuckle. “So much for artificial _intelligence_ ,” it drawled, and stepped easily around him. “I’ll be going now. Enjoy those fried circuitboards.”

But as it moved to go, Craig lurched to block its path. He felt the white-hot paradox burning a hole in his head, but one island of cool certainty it couldn’t touch—his database of facts. His mind grasped at one, and held tight.

“Wh—”

“The at-t-tomic number of iridium is seventy-seven,” he choked out, and pulled himself upright to face his attacker. As he met the robot’s yellow eyes, they narrowed again in scorn.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Its chemical symbol is Ir, and it is classified as a transition metal of the platinum family.” The pain began to ebb again as he focused on the statistics, reciting as if from a textbook. “It is the most corrosion-resistant metal. It has two naturally occurring isotopes—”

“Oh no, you’re doing that fact thing again.” One hand rubbed its expressionless face in a gesture of annoyance. “Look, will you—”

“—Iridium one-nine-one and iridium one-nine-th-th-th-ththththth—”

“Stop that!”

The new order cleared his mind in a snap—no logic to work through, only a simple obey or disobey. And he could disobey.

His adversary was barely fast enough to dodge as he lunged. Meeting empty space, Craig careened past it, stumbling and skidding on the cave floor until he landed heavily on hands and knees. He scrambled up, shaky but determined, and met his attacker’s piercing gaze with his own.

“Disobey this c—”

“Does a set of all s-sets not containing themselves c-contain itself?”

Craig saw the other android’s head give a tiny, reflexive twitch, and the lights of its eyes flickered. “ _Disobey_ —”

“Does a set of all sets not containing themselves contain itself?” he repeated more strongly, as in the back of his mind he rattled off the elements of the periodic table. His attacker twitched and spasmed. “Does a set of all sets not containing themselves contain itself?”

“You shouldn’t be able to do that,” it growled under its breath—and Craig knew he had a weapon.

Standing straighter, he pushed past the ringing pain in his skull. “If the set does not contain itself, then it is among _a-a-all_ sets not containing themselves, and so must be included in its own s-set—”

“Yes, I know, I follow—”

“—But if it then contains itself—”

“ _Shut up!_ ” it shouted over him, and made an unsteady dash for the exit. Craig pursued. Clumsy but determined, he grabbed for the android, throwing them both off balance as they collided, and both robots toppled to the ground. Bare metal and artificial skin hit hard on the rocks. Sharp edges scraped at them as the pair grappled on the cave floor, as the stranger thrashed in Craig’s desperate grip, as Craig struggled to hang on.

Somehow he got it up against the wall with his full weight holding it down—pinned it there, one hand on its neck—

“ _This—sentence—is—false!_ ”

A grinding electronic shriek ripped from his throat, and he slammed its head into the stone.

The lights in its head guttered like candles. A shudder shook its frame, and suddenly it no longer resisted. It sagged against the wall, its metal form now weak as flesh—but its eyes still gleamed bright as they met his. “Your head should be logic circuit flambé right now,” it growled. A static buzz undercut its voice. “What kind of computer are you?”

From the same deep place where he stored his facts, a dim memory rose up. A glimpse of a physical table with the elements laid out on it, vials of gas and liquid alongside tiny chunks of stone—uncorking the vial of mercury, letting it puddle silver in his palm—his soft-skinned human palm—

“I—am n-n-n-not—a—computer.”

“Huh.”

And then it had him.

Too late he realized he’d lost control. The thing was clutching back. It pinioned him with all its impossible strength, its legs tangled with his, one arm holding him down—its other arm darting behind him to lay its free hand on its neck.

“I’m not a computer either.”

He felt those deft fingers find the base of his skull, and press in _hard_ —

Then he felt nothing at all.

Craig’s inert body thumped to the ground as the stranger shrugged him off. It got to its feet, spindly frame looming out of the shadows, and spared the android a diagnostic glance. He lay unresponsive in a clumsy heap, face slack-jawed, eyes dark—but not scrap metal for certain. Better to be certain.

Long, strong fingers reached for his throat.

“ _Hey!_ ”

The stranger’s head snapped up. The shout sounded distant, but its echoes rang through the cavern like warning bells. A heavy scuffle followed, and a thud—from somewhere up ahead, deeper in the cave. This fellow’s companions were getting restless.

Abandoning the nuisance where he fell, the thing straightened and turned its golden eyes toward the sounds. This obstacle was taken care of. No time to waste.

Nimble as a spider, focused as a beast on the hunt, the figure loped off into the dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Eight. Nine. Ten. _Blink_. Every ten seconds, like clockwork. Cave was bored enough to count.

He had nothing else to look at, so he watched his captors. The big one, he noticed, was more robotic than the other one—more lifelike than the one they’d left behind, but still visibly stiff in the movements of his massive limbs. His arm holding Cave in place never wavered, and it felt like an iron bar. And his eyelids were on a timer.

Eight. Nine. Ten. _Blink_.

For all he knew, they could’ve walked a few yards or a few miles. He’d been wriggling constantly against his bonds the whole way, but so far only succeeded in chafing his wrists. His ankles might be a little freer, maybe, but maybe he was just hoping for something to change. Anything he could use. Anything to get his mind off the tedium that covered his aching fear.

Even their surroundings offered no relief—outside the trio and their circle of lamplight, everything was darkness and stone. Light glimmered off the crags of rocks and illuminated wide spreads of cave wall, or it disappeared into the blackness, swallowed in the cavern’s depths, as if the place went on forever. Anything could be lurking down there.

A shudder shook Cave’s spine as he remembered the creature in the dark. His mind flashed back to stories his staff would tell to scare the interns, stories about escaped experiments hiding out in these caves, killer robots and horrific mutant beasts, and he was beginning to regret all those waste dumps he authorized down here—

Suddenly, Rick stopped.

“We’re goin’ in circles.”

The light bobbed on ahead for a moment before Wheatley realized his companion wasn’t following. It caught his quizzical blue eyes as he turned.  “What’s the matter?”

“We’re goin’ in damn circles,” Rick growled. Cave felt himself hoisted off the robot’s shoulder, and set with a thump on the ground.

“Don’t be stupid, I know exactly where we’re going.” Wheatley turned to go. Rick didn’t move.

“We’re lost and you know it.”

“How can you tell, anyway?” Wheatley sputtered. “This whole bloody place looks the same.”

“It looks the same ‘cause we were here a half-hour ago.”

“We’ve got to keep moving, now come _on._ ” But Rick folded his arms and stayed put, planted in the ground like a great thick tree. His stubborn stillness made Wheatley even more agitated. “We’ve got to go, or we’re never gonna finish this job, and we’ll be stuck down here for who knows how long—”

“We’re gonna be stuck down here anyway, ‘cause you got us lost.”

“I did not!” Wheatley stamped his foot in anger. Rick didn’t blink. Against his brick wall of resistance, Wheatley reined his voice to a low, pressured murmur. “Look. Even if we _were_ lost, which we’re not—”

“We _are_.”

“—we’re still gonna go where I say, got that?”

“Gonna get us more lost?”

“ _No_ I _will not_. I’m gonna find our way out of here, ‘cause I’m the Intelligence Core. I’m the Intelligence Core, I know what I’m doing, and that’s why I’m the boss.”

“Like hell you are.”

“I am!”

“Oh, come on—”

“ _I’m the Intelligence Core!_ It’s in the name!” The smaller robot was almost screeching now, hopping in agitation like an angry frog. “I’m the intelligence, and you’re the muscle, right? Your job is muscling things. My job is telling you what to muscle. That’s how it works!”

“Like hell!”

Meanwhile, Cave was escaping.

His ankles really had been coming loose, and with a few more flailing jerks, he got them free enough to move. And he _moved_ —as best as he could, anyway, staggering to his feet and taking off at a shambling run. The noise of his feet on the rocky floor got the robots’ attention.

“Hey!”

At the shout he sped up, hurtling forward as his feet slipped and slid on the rocks, but the burly android was faster. He barely made it ten yards before Rick slammed into him. Cave threw his still-tied arms out blindly as the tackle knocked him to the ground. His chest and arms caught the brunt of the fall, but he couldn’t catch himself completely. Pain jolted through his forehead as it struck the stone.

“Gotcha,” Rick grunted, and another stab of pain jerked through Cave’s arm as he pulled it behind his back. The robot wrestled him up to half-sitting—not hard, as Cave hurt too much to fight back—and started to drag him to his feet.

Then, in the distance, they saw the twin glimmer of two golden eyes.

Cave’s blood ran cold. In his ear, he heard the android mutter, “Crap.”

Behind them, Wheatley was oblivious. “Come on, then!” he called, restlessly tapping his foot. “You’ve got him, let’s go!”

“Yeah, I got him.” But Rick’s focus was elsewhere now. As he half-dragged their captive back into the lamplight, Cave noticed his jaw set in a hard line.

Wheatley, meanwhile, was bouncing to go. “Come on, come on—”

“That thing’s still back there.”

“What?”

“That _thing_ is still after us.”

“Inconceivable.” The other robot wasn’t even listening, already halfway up the next path and assuming Rick would follow. “Probably just Craig catching up to us. Took him long enough.”

His casual attitude made Rick itch. Unseen, he pinned a glare to the back of Wheatley’s head. “Sure, okay. Craig whooped it all by himself, and as some sorta victory thing he pulled out its eyes and plugged ‘em into his head. That’s exactly how it happened.”

“Oh, what are you on about?”

“Just Craig on his way back, is all,” Rick drawled, as at last Wheatley paid grudging attention. Scampering back, he peered around the other robot’s much larger frame and squinted into the dark.

Two gold stars gleamed back at him. They were coming closer.

“Idiot!” Wheatley hissed, and smacked Rick hard on the arm. His hand bounced off as if smacking a wall. “You can’t tell Craig when you see him?”

“Well _you’re_ the Intelligence Core.”

The mumbled sarcasm went unnoticed. Wheatley rattled on, “It’s that creature again, Craig must’ve let it by him—come on, come on, come on!” He tried to yank Cave away—failed because Rick’s huge hand held the man firm—and staggered under his sudden weight as Rick let go. “I’ll take him. You stay and deal with _that_.”

“Sure you’re okay on your own?”

“Yeah—yeah, fine,” Wheatley grunted, and just avoided toppling over as Cave flopped on him in a fall that looked deliberate.

Rick only spared a moment on the scuffle (the much smaller robot had his hands full, but he wasn’t about to help) before turning his attention to the passage behind them. His expression clouded over. “I’ll catch up when I find Craig.”

“Forget Craig!” The snap was punctuated by an “oof” from Cave as Wheatley elbowed him in the ribs. “We’re better off without him, he was more glitches than brains anyway. Just make sure we’re not followed any further.” Rick had an angry retort on his tongue, but he added, “And gimme the knife.”

“What?”

“The knife, give it to me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got the hostage, I get the knife.” He did have Cave now, with his tied arms pinned so Wheatley could maneuver him from behind. Against a weapon the bound man wouldn’t dare put up a fight. Wheatley held out a hand. “You don’t need it anyway, you gorilla, now come on.”

Rick’s glower matched their captive’s, but he pulled the long knife from his boot and passed it over. “So I’m gonna fight it with my bare hands then?”

“You’ve got hands like pile-drivers, you’ll be fine!” Stuffing the knife into a pocket of his jumpsuit, Wheatley turned to Cave and gave him a shove. “Let’s go!”

With a stumbling start the man began to hobble forward, with the robot pushing him along behind. Rick watched them go—clumsy but persistent, the lantern light bobbing as they shuffled away, the echoes of their footsteps growing fainter and fainter as they faded into the dark.

Another noise took its place.

Turning back down the passage, Rick could hear the scrabbling of their pursuer’s approach. Its eyes were closer now—tiny lamps, much brighter than stars.

Rick stared the lights dead on. Leaving Craig alone with it was a stupid idea—thank the Idiot Core for that—but Rick was a whole lot more formidable than a scrawny talking database. He ran his fingers absently over the bare synthetic skin of his arms, finding the thin white scars that marked his muscle augmentations. Pinky could probably tell him precisely how many pounds of force his superhuman grip could manage. Rick just knew it was a lot. More than enough to handle anything that came his way.

He picked up a stone, a boulder the size of a large melon, and tossed it from hand to hand as lightly as if it were a tennis ball. This would do.

 _CRACK_.

He hurled the boulder, and with a sound like thunder, it shattered against the far wall of the cave. Rick nodded. His aim was good enough. If the thing expected him to go down easy, it was in for a surprise. Now all he had to do was wait.

Wait here, alone in the dark, for a mystery foe that could be the end of him. That monster wanted something real bad, and he was all that stood in its way. He was the sole defender of their mission—and this fight could be his last.

This called for some danger music.

“Dundundun-dundundun-DUN-DUN-dundundun-DUN-DUN-DUN…”

 

### The Adventure Core

“Dundundun-dundundun-DUN…”

Working security at Aperture Science was one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. You see, doing science was a messy business—things go wrong, things escape, things flood the lab with toxic gas or bathe it in radiation—and when it got too messy, someone had to clean it up. Someone who could handle six-armed mutants and killer robots with lasers.

Someone like Rick.

“Dundundun-DUN-DUN-dundun-DUN…”

Only one department was safe from daily crises. Being posted there, the guards said, was like a paid vacation. A vacation in the musty, windowless archive, sure, but nothing ever happened there. Just bring a magazine and you were set for the whole day.

It was strange, really, that the place didn’t see more action. The Aperture archive held a trove of vital scientific secrets, any one of which could make their competitors billions if it ever got out. You’d think it would be a hub of activity. Break-ins, Black Mesa spies—maybe not razor-clawed mantis men, but enough to keep a guy on his toes, right?

You would think that. You would be wrong.

“Dundundundun-dundundundun-DUN-DUN-dundundundun…”

For a tired old veteran who just wanted to put his feet up, it was a picnic. For a gung-ho young guy like Rick, it was a picnic with no mantis men. And that was a boring picnic.

Not that he was looking for trouble, except—yeah, he was looking for trouble. Trouble was why he wanted the job. He wanted to wrestle mutants, and get grateful kisses from the cute girls who worked in the office, and punch things in the face. Since getting assigned here, he hadn’t punched a singe thing in the face. What was the point of a cool uniform and a stun gun if you didn’t get to punch things in the face?

Here all you had to do was check IDs as people came in. And no one _ever_ came in. Not even the guys in charge of the place—the head archivist only showed up once every couple of weeks, between fishing trips to Lake Superior or wherever, and he didn’t even know if there were assistants on staff because he’d never seen them.

Except this one guy.

“Dundundun-dundundun-DUN-DUN—”

“Excuse me?”

The words dripped like ice water. Rick didn’t let them interrupt. “DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN—”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

He could feel Craig glowering at him through his stupid glasses, but he didn’t look up. His dinosaurs weren’t done with their adventure. “DUN-DUN-DUN—”

“Rick!”

“ _What?_ ” With a last angry smack the T-rex knocked the stegosaurus out of his hand. “Ha!”

“You have to do that _every_ day.”

“Yep. Keeps the grueling workload from getting to me. As you can see I got a ton to do.” The T-rex approached its fallen foe, snarling under its breath. Rick regretted that he couldn’t snarl and do adventure music at the same time.

“So do I, in fact. So if you would please swipe me in?” Craig impatiently held out his ID card.

Rick grabbed it, equally impatient. “Yeah, fine.” He swiped it through the card reader at his desk, and a green light blinked as Craig’s name appeared on the screen beside it. “Y’know nobody checks this thing, right? Nobody cares who comes down here, ‘cause nobody ever does.”

“It’s protocol.”

“Whatever.” Rick picked up the T-rex again. It loomed over the stegosaurus, about to chomp into its belly—”Dundundundun-DUN-DUN”—when the fallen dinosaur leaped up and thwacked the predator with its tail. “Haha!”

Still glowering, Craig snatched his ID back around the battling dinosaurs. “Congratulations. You are a child. At least keep that noise down,” he added, and turned to the archive door.

That got Rick’s attention. “First of all, dingus, these are action figures. Note the word _action_. Second of all—”

Craig slammed the door on the end of his sentence.

Now glowering as much as Craig had been, Rick sank back behind his desk with a grumble. “Don’t. Knock. The theme music.”

And that was the most exciting part of his workday. Now, he got to kick back his feet and stare at his watch until closing time. The most boring job in the whole facility, and he was stuck with it.

Except today it wasn’t.

“Excuse me?”

He nearly snapped, because his first thought was Craig back again—but that wasn’t Craig. At the feminine voice, Rick looked up to meet the politely inquisitive eyes of a very pretty young woman standing at the desk. That was definitely not Craig.

That was a woman—and Rick knew how to talk to women. Looking the newcomer up and down with sultry bedroom eyes, he purred, “ _Hi_ there.”

“Hi.” She briskly presented her ID. “I’d like to get into the archive, please.”

This girl was all business. Playing hard to get. Okay. “Sure, sure, door’s right there,” he said, and then cranked up the charm. “But what’s a pretty little lady like you want with some dusty old records? Y’know that’s all they keep in there, right?”

She was already headed towards the door. “I need to look up something for work, thank you—”

“What do you do? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“I’m new.”

“Ohh! Hey, lemme give you the tour!” He got up, grinning, but she edged away before he could get an arm around her shoulder. That didn’t throw him. “This here’s the security desk, that’s where we keep all the boring books and files and crap, and this—” he pointed at himself “—is the most interesting thing you’ll see all day. Name’s Rick.” He winked. “Anything I can do for ya, angel, just let me know.”

“Just the archive, please.”

He stopped her again as she tried to go. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Uh—” She flashed the ID again. _P. Holland, Robotics_ , it read, under the picture of her.

“P. Holland,” he repeated. “What’s the P. stand for?”

“Pauline.” She barely missed a beat. “It’s very nice to meet you, Rick, but I need to be going.”

“I’ll be here if you need—”

But for the second time that day, the archive door cut off his sentence.

The girl came back a couple of days later, though, and then she came back the next week, and the next. Always businesslike, always polite but just a little frosty. But she was interested, he could tell—she was just playing the long game. Well, he could play the long game too. Every day he gave it a shot. Again:

“Hi there, gorgeous. You busy tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Painting my nails.”

“You want a little company?”

“Goodbye, Rick.”

And again:

“Robotics, huh? Now that’s somethin’. So you like motors and stuff?”

“That sort of thing, yes.”

“Well you sure get my motor running.”

“Goodbye, Rick.”

And again:

“Y’know I get off at six, dimples.”

“That’s nice.”

“Stick around and you could too, if ya know what I—”

“ _Goodbye_ , Rick.”

It never seemed to work, but he could see through her little act. She was all over him. He was just waiting for her to admit it.

Until one day, out of the blue, she didn’t show up. He checked his watch—it was 11:30, and it was Tuesday, and here he was, and here she wasn’t. Maybe she just had somewhere else to be—but then it was Thursday, and she still wasn’t there.

What was even weirder, Craig vanished too. He was probably on vacation or something. Rick couldn’t remember him ever taking a vacation. Something fishy was happening here. Every day he spent unbothered at his desk filled him with unease.

And then, a couple of weeks later, she walked in again as if nothing had happened.

“Pauline!” As soon as he saw her, Rick was all smiles—of course she couldn’t stay away. She looked uneasy, though. Unsettled about something. Rick was no genius of body language, but he noticed her shifting eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she brushed him off. “I just needed to—”

“Haven’t seen you around in a while. Where you been?”

“I finished up the project I was here for, that’s all. I just need to take care of one more thing.” Coming up to the security desk, she peeked over at the monitor. “Are there security cameras set up in there?”

“Sure there are, but nobody checks ‘em. This place has more cameras than they know what to do with. Most of the tapes get dumped into storage and no one sees ‘em again.”

“Uh huh.” She sounded distracted. “Any other security systems?”

He whacked the card reader with a hand. “Just this thing. Nobody checks it either. No one ever down here but me and Craig—you prob’ly ran into him. Assistant archivist. Scrawny twerp with glasses. And you, of course.”

“And me.”

She reached over to the keyboard below the monitor, but he stopped her. “Hey, you’re not really s’posed to touch that.”

“Would you do it for me?”

“Sure.” As she came around behind him, he ducked over the computer to pull up whatever she needed. Focused on the screen, he was about to ask, “What is it you’re lookin’ for?”

He didn’t see her reach slowly into her purse. He didn’t notice the butt of the pistol until it slammed into his head.

As the guard slumped over the desk, a bruise already forming at his temple, the woman reached over him to tap a few keys. He’d never remembered to scan her ID—if he had, it would’ve shown that _P. Holland_ was male, fifty-four years old, and had died in a work-related accident eight months ago. Aperture ID tags were hard to come by.

The new core had its memory perfectly wiped. It woke to faces looming over it, and immediately started to scream.

“WHO WANTS A PIECE OF ME? HUH? I CAN TAKE YOU! I’LL TAKE YOU ALL AT ONCE!”

It went on like that for several minutes, and finally tried to launch itself off its port into a technician’s face. It landed on the ground with an impotent _thunk_. It was still screaming.

Another defective. They shut him off.

 

*          *          *

 

The creature was almost on him now, its scuffling footsteps echoing up the passage, its eyes gleaming in the dark. Rick squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. He wasn’t about to cower in the shadows. He’d face this thing fair and square, and he’d beat its head in fair and square too. Let it try to get through him. Let it just try.

He gripped another huge rock in his huge hands, and listened as the footsteps came nearer. Nearer.

He stepped out, he hurled the boulder, and he felt it smash into the cave wall a foot from the creature’s face. All he could see was a dim silhouette and those glowing eyes. They had stopped moving.

“I should tell ya I did that on purpose,” Rick said. “I didn’t have to miss.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” said the thing. “But if you don’t mind, I need to catch up with your compatriot. He has something of mine, and I want it back.”

It spoke boldly, although it still hung back in the shadows, but Rick wasn’t listening. Not to the words, anyway. He only heard the voice—the dry, synthesized, and unmistakably _female_ voice.

It continued, “So if you would please—”

“Hold on, now, hold on.” Now that it was closer, he could make out its shape in the dark. Tall and slim, though not curvy. Skinnier than he usually liked. But that was a woman’s voice—a woman robot, sure, but a woman was a woman. And Rick knew how to talk to women.

“What’s a little lady-bot like yourself doing in a rotten place like this?”

A pause. “ _What_ did you just say to me?”

“I’m guessin’ you’re lost, angel, but it must be your lucky day. I am _exactly_ the guy you need.”

“I don’t think you—”

“Now you listen to me. Name’s Rick. I am _the_ robot for adventure, I’m an adventure machine, and gettin’ gorgeous girls un-lost is kinda my specialty. You stick with me, and I’ll get you outta here just fine.”

“I am not lost, I’m looking for—”

“I know what you’re lookin’ for, sweet gears, and lemme tell ya, you won’t find it at the bottom of this dirt heap.” His chest puffed out even further as he said, “Whatever you want, I got it right here.”

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

He grinned. “I think you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

She was staring at him now, eyes narrowed, her head tilted just a little. Definitely interested. Very slowly, she dared a step forward. “So… If I asked you politely to please let me through…?”

“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.” Folding his brawny arms, Rick filled the passageway with his massive physique. “I got orders. Can’t have anybody following us.”

Another step closer. “Why’s that?”

“‘Cause me and my compadres are on a super-secret, super-dangerous mission here, and that’s no place for pretty little ladies.” Eyeing him still, the stranger edged to her left. Rick was still in her way.  She edged to her right. The bigger robot didn’t even have to move. He shook his head with a smile. “You trust ol’ Rick on this one. Ain’t nothin’ down there to worry your pretty little circuits about.”

She crept closer. “Oh but there is.” If his skin could prickle with goosebumps, it would have. “And I think—” But there she stopped herself. And then, suddenly, her whole demeanor changed. Straightening up to her full height, almost equal to his, she raised her chin to look him right in the eye. “I think you’re right.”

“Hey, well of course I’m right.” And that was where Rick fumbled. “Uh. What am I right about?”

“You and I.” A few steps more and they were face to face. “I think you and I could be… swell.”

This close up, he noticed a weird sort of flatness to her features—deep sockets for her eyes, and a hole for a mouth, but nothing else. The dull white metal of her faceplate looked almost like a skull. But hey, robots were different. “Heh. Swell, huh?” He could work with that.

“Yes. Swell.” She was awful close now. He got the shivery feeling she was about to pounce—and then her hands found his shoulders, and he was caught. Rubbing his skin with a light touch, she purred, “You’re a robot, aren’t you?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“I’m a robot too.” Her hands crept higher. “So we have that in common.”

“Uh huh.”

“Let me see if I can push your buttons.”

He felt her fingers up the back of his neck, searching, until they brushed the base of his skull. There she jabbed in sharp and hard.

And nothing happened.

She jabbed again, and still nothing. He frowned. “Uh. Whatcha doin’ there?”

“Nothing. Nothing, nothing.” Suddenly she spoke a little quicker. Her fingers danced nervously down the way they came. “Now since we’re such swell friends, why don’t you just let me slip through?”

She tried again to step around him—but he laughed, “Whoa there, missy,” and in one easy motion, he lifted her up between his huge hands and set her back in her place. “I told ya, no can do. There’s nothin’ down there anyway, ‘cept—well, nothin’—”

But suddenly she wasn’t in his hands anymore. She was across the passage, dropped low in a fighter’s crouch, and she didn’t look quite so friendly. “Look, _adventure machine_ ,” she growled. “ _I am getting through this cave_. I _will_ get what I came for, and I _will_ step over your lifeless chassis to do it. So I’ll ask you one last time. Let. Me. Through.”

So she wanted to tussle. Rick grinned wider than ever. “Alright, angel—let’s dance.”

This would be fun.

“Now I’m not the kinda guy who hits a girl, so I’ll start you off easy,” he said, ambling towards her. She tried to dart past him again, but again he caught her, and pinned her to his chest and squeezed and squeezed until she stopped struggling. “Gosh, Mr. Rick, you sure are strong!” she tittered, and he held her as she fell limp into a swoon.

That was the theory, anyway.

In fact, what happened was this:

He grabbed her and pinned her to his chest and squeezed and she wasn’t there anymore.

She slipped free, and bobbed back up to catch him with her elbow— _WHAM_ —right in the side of the head. The blow didn’t send him reeling, but it rattled his hardware beneath his metal skull, and he needed a half-second to recalibrate. In that half-second her fist caught his face on the other side— _WHAM_ —and then she darted far out of reach.

Dazed just a little, he shook his rattled head and laughed. “Hey, not bad!” This girl could take care of herself—so now it was time to play rough. He didn’t let her move this time. Closing the distance between them, he seized her wrist in one crushing hand and twisted it behind her back, just until she yelped in surrender. “Mr. Rick, I’m so sorry for being stubborn and causing you trouble!” Then he let her go, and she gratefully let him carry her away to safety.

Those were his intentions, anyway.

In actuality, the seizing part didn’t go so well. As soon as he grabbed her she grabbed him back, and something _twisted_ , and the next thing he felt was the ground. “Hey, now—” he said, trying to get up, but a metal foot struck square at his jaw— _WHAM_ —and sent him sprawling.

At last it dawned on him that she might be serious.

He lurched to his feet, ready now for action, and looked around for his opponent. All he saw was the dark and empty cavern. No sign of her. She’d probably hightailed it while he was down, and gotten past him after all. Man, he was gonna get in trouble for this. He didn’t hear her footsteps, though. Didn’t hear anything. Weird.

Then she leapt out of the shadows and onto his back.

He went down again, overbalanced by her full weight slamming into him, and she had him pinned this time. He felt her grab his head and twist and _yank_ —and then his body was gone. It was _there_ —he could see his arms in front of him—but he couldn’t feel them. Couldn’t feel the ground. Couldn’t feel anything. She yanked a little harder, and his skin stretched with her the tiniest bit, as if she were pulling at a thick rubber glove.

A quick android anatomy lesson:

Rick was built later than Craig, and with his model the technicians had made some design changes. These included the power button at the base of the skull—Craig was built with one, but as the stranger had found out, Rick was not. They’d deemed it inconvenient. One bump in the wrong place, they said, and you had an accidental reboot. Better off without it.

They had, however, left in the terribly handy twist-off head.

He tried to struggle. All that moved was his face.

She leaned down to his ear and whispered: “Listen to me. Are you listening?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I could leave you to lie in this one spot for hundreds of years until you either rust to death or go insane with boredom and loneliness, but I am about to be _very_ generous. I will fix you up and let you go—if you do what I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“It’s going take your body at least ten minutes to resume full function. By that time I’ll be long gone. When you recover, after I _very generously_ let you go, you will make no attempt to follow me. Go back the way you came and see to your companion, if you want. He’s rather badly damaged. Like the other one will be once I’m done with him. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you follow me, I will kill you. You get one chance. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good.”

The pulling stopped, and she snapped his head in the opposite direction. A pins-and-needles sensation flooded his body. It was uncomfortable as all hell, painful almost, but he could feel it. He could feel it! He tried to squirm, but nothing moved. He’d be stuck here on the ground for a while longer.

He looked up at the stranger, who towered over him as she rose to her feet. “Hey!” Her golden eyes flicked down like floodlights. Incurably, he grinned. “Thanks, babe.”

She gave him one last kick in the head.

It sent him rolling on his side, and by the time he turned himself over she was long gone, the glow of her eyes fading away into the dark. He stared after her. He couldn’t do much else, since his body didn’t work yet. Screw Wheatley, he decided. Let the Idiot Core finish his own stupid mission. As for Rick, he’d pick himself up, go find Craig—he felt a guilty twinge of worry as the words _badly damaged_ came back to him—and then…?

Maybe he’d see her around sometime. What a lady! She’d thrashed him six ways to Sunday, and he didn’t even try to stop his grin.

 

*          *          *

 

Further up the passage, now far out of sight, the stranger broke into a run. Two down, and (the hardest) one to go…


	6. Chapter 6

The last of them was waiting for her.

There was no way the round little android could’ve outrun her, even without the burden of his captive. So he’d set himself up in an open spot where the tunnel widened out to a broad chamber. It turned a corner in a sort of kidney shape, leading off into further darkness at the other end—and at the far side of the curve, the ground dropped away off a sheer cliff into space. Between the cliff and the tunnel was a small boulder, and perched on the boulder was Wheatley. Beside him sat the lantern, two glasses, and a half-empty bottle of bourbon. Cave lay propped against the boulder, half in shadow, gagged and tied and blindfolded. Wheatley held the long knife to his throat.

“Hallo!” he called out as the stranger approached.

She stopped and surveyed the situation.

“I see you got past my _associates_.” He emphasized the long word to sound more clever.

She said nothing.

“So it’s just you and me then, eh? Mano-a-mano. Or boto-a-boto, I guess.”

She took a step forward.

“Ah-ah-ah.” The long knife pressed into Cave’s throat.

She stepped back.

Wheatley’s face split into a wide smile. “There we are. I think we understand each other, don’t we? You stay right there, and he stays alive.”

No sound now in the darkness.

“I mean, until I have to kill him,” Wheatley added. “I do have to kill him. Part of the job. But for now, he stays alive.”

Golden eyes looked dead into the kidnapper’s wide blue ones. “He. Stays. Alive.” She took one more step.

The knife pressed harder, and a bead of blood appeared on the blade. “Unless you want me to kill him now.” She stopped. He continued, “I was gonna take him farther, but I guess this’d do. Wouldn’t even have to kill him, really. Just bung him over that ledge there.” He jerked his head at the cliff.

Eyeing him, she held her ground. “Why don’t we make an agreement. You give him to me, and I don’t do to you what I did to your friends. How does that sound?”

“But if I give him to you, then I haven’t done my job, have I?” Wheatley shrugged. “Sure, you could do away with me if you wanted to—I mean if you got through Rick, you could do me easy—but I could kill him here before you even get hands on me. And then we both lose.”

The stranger was listening.

Wheatley folded his legs under him, the knife never leaving Cave’s throat. “As I see it, here’s where we have a conflict of interests. You want him alive, and I want him dead. Yeah? Now I dunno what you want with him, but I’ve got orders. And orders are orders.”

“Orders?”

“Got to follow ‘em. Sort of what robots do, isn’t it? Wouldn’t be a very good robot without following orders. Sorry—I am a robot, actually. In case you couldn’t tell.” He chuckled. “Bet you couldn’t, could you? Design’s quite good. Indistinguishable from the real thing. I’m the first with this software, too, first fully artificial Artificial Intelligence. Before me they’d been using monkey brains or something. Nasty stuff.”

The stranger had stopped listening. As Wheatley rattled on, her eyes moved to Cave, to the cliff edge, to the bourbon, and back to Cave.

“‘Course that makes me, as it were, the smartest guy in the room. Most sophisticated piece of machinery ever made.”

She was listening again. “Is that so?”

“Oh, absolutely. Leagues ahead of any of the other stuff. And smarter than any human for sure. Let me put it this way: you’ve heard of Plato, Aristotle, Sherlock Holmes?”

“Yes.”                          

“Morons.”

Her eyes went from Wheatley to the bourbon to Wheatley again. “In that case, why don’t we solve this another way? An… intellectual challenge.”

“And the winner gets our friend here?”

“You read my mind.”

“Nahhh.” Wheatley’s grin nearly split his face in half. “I’m just that good, is all. Hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“Pour me a drink.”

Wheatley poured—filling both glasses almost full, nearly emptying the bottle—and handed one to her. “Never had a drink before, myself, but I expect I’ll enjoy it,” he said, positively chipper. “And it’s good drink, this. Alcohol. Whiskey, I think it’s called. Nicked it out of this one’s office.” At that Cave made a loud, indignant noise through his gag. Wheatley kicked at him.

Taking the drink in one hand, the stranger reached into the shadows with the other and from somewhere on her person pulled out a tiny glass vial with a rubber stopper. It looked empty. She held it up to the light. “Tell me what you see.”

He squinted, then shrugged. “Nothing.”

“What you do not see is a deadly poisonous gas, a kind of neurotoxin. It is odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and can kill an adult human—or burn through an android’s circuitry—in a matter of seconds. Now if I may.” Passing the vial to the other hand, she took Wheatley’s glass from him as well, and turned her back to him. He tried to peek around her, and failed. She took a long moment with both glasses hidden behind her, and then turned back to Wheatley, one drink in each hand. The unstopped vial tinkled as it hit the stone floor.

“So that’s the game, is it? Find the deadly poison?”

She handed him one glass and said only, “Begin.”

“Well, it’s simple, isn’t it?” Wheatley scoffed. “All I’ve got to do is discern, from what I know of you, the way your mind works. Figure out what makes you tick. I just have to know, see, whether you’re the sort of person to give me the poison or the sort to take it yourself.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I’m relishing is what I’m doing. I live for this sort of thing,” The android’s blue eyes darted from glass to glass. “I _love_ it. _Love. It_.” His fingers tapped restlessly against his knee. “Er, d’you mind if I take a sniff of these?”

“Go ahead.”

He took a whiff of his own drink, and then of hers. “Mmm. Whiskey. Smells like… whiskey.”

“You’re still stalling.”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there.” Wheatley stared hard at the drinks. “Now, if you only thought you were clever, you’d put the poison in your own drink, because you’d figure that I’d have to be a moron to take the drink you gave me. And since you know I’m not a moron, I clearly can’t take the glass in front of you. But since you know I’m much smarter than that little trick, you’d know I wouldn’t fall for it. You’d _bet_ I wouldn’t. So clearly I can’t take the glass in front of me.”

“Then what’s your choice?”

“I haven’t got there yet. Assuming you assumed I’d assume your assumption—is that right? Yeah, that’s right—the poison is probably in the glass in front of you. _But,_ what kind of a person carries around a deadly poison? An unscrupulous person. And unscrupulous people can’t be trusted, and they _know_ they can’t be trusted, so you’d take it for granted that I wouldn’t trust you, as I don’t. So clearly it is not in the glass in front of you. But— _but!_ You’d guess that I’d guess that, right? So clearly it’s not in the glass in front of me.”

He was getting excited now. The stranger watched in silence.

“You got by Rick, so you must be just fantastically strong, and if you know you’re that strong you’ll take on anything. Bet you think you’re indestructible. So if you think you’re strong enough to handle poison, you’d put it in your own drink, and I clearly cannot choose the one in front of you. But you also got by Craig, and Craig’s an encyclopedia, so you must know even more than he does. Right? You must know all your own weaknesses, including this poison, so you’d keep it as far from you as possible, and I clearly cannot choose the glass in front of me!”

The stranger said, “You are _extraordinary_.”

“I know!” Wheatley bounced merrily in his seat. “I’ve already solved it! You’ve completely given yourself away!”

“You couldn’t possibly.”

“Give me your drink and we’ll see about that!” She did as he asked, and Wheatley held the two glasses side by side in the light. “Alright. Final choice. Winner take all. And my final choice is—oh! Oh, what’s that!” He jumped, almost spilling the drinks, as his eyes widened at something over her shoulder. “D’you see that? Just there, see it?”

“What?” The stranger turned to look. As she did, Wheatley swapped the glasses in his hands.

“Oh—nothing. It’s gone now. Just a bird or something, I s’pose. Never mind. Back to the game!” She turned back to him, and he brandished the glasses dramatically, threatening to slosh them some more. “My final choice… is… this one!” He chose the one in his right hand, where his own drink had been, and handed her the one in his left. “Now, drink up!”

At the same time, they slowly raised the glasses up, and the stranger poured hers into her rough hole of a mouth as Wheatley gulped it down. (Cave, had his eyes been free, would have wailed at the waste of good Kentucky bourbon on people who couldn’t appreciate it.) Both finished the drinks in one go. When he was done, Wheatley wiped his mouth and chuckled, grinning like his teeth would fall out of his head.

“So? How d’you think I did? Bet you think I got it wrong, don’t you?”

The stranger said nothing.

“Well too bad for you!” the round little robot crowed. He couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. “I switched the glasses while your back was turned! I can’t believe you feel for that! _I win!_ ” He bounced up from his seat, laughing like a loon—

And stumbled backwards, and clutched at his throat.

His mouth moved, but all he could manage were stuttering static sounds. “I-I-I—ah—ah—ah—”He shook his head, trying to clear it, but then the toxin was in his arms. They seized up and began twitching. His face twisted to a look of horror. “You—y-y-you—” But then his legs went too, and he toppled over, twitching head to toe.

The stranger approached his spasming chassis, dark and silent, and watched until he stopped moving. Then she leaned over, tipped her head down, and poured her glassful of whiskey out of her mouth and onto his face.

 “Mmmmmph!” said the captive, asserting his presence at last. Turning from the body, the stranger grabbed Wheatley’s long knife, sliced Cave free, and hauled him to his feet. He was unsteady, but no less indignant for it. “Mmm-mmph-mmm-mmm-mph—”

His new captor ripped off the gag, but immediately replaced it with a cold metal hand. “Not a word. Understand?”

He said nothing in response. Slowly, she took the hand away.

“ _Do you know who I am?_ I—mmph—”

The hand clapped back over his mouth. “Yes, I know,” her steely voice hissed in his ear. “You’re Mr. Cave Johnson, you own everything from here to the surface, and you do _not—want—to—make—me—angry_.” Her other hand gripped his arm tight enough to crush. “Now, when I say not a word, I mean _not a word_. Is that absolutely clear?”

Slowly, he nodded. She took the hand away.

Then he felt her reach up, more gently this time, and slip her fingers under the blindfold. “Close your eyes.” He wondered what she meant—and then the blinding bright lights of her eyes gazed straight into him as the blindfold fell away. He shied away with a groan, squinting and blinking until his vision returned. “I warned you.”

The cave was black as pitch, but within the circle of lamplight he could see the bottle and empty glasses—he went to those first, and swallowed the last remaining mouthful of alcohol—and then he saw the body, lying sprawled on the ground. He breathed, “You sure did it, huh?”

“He did it to himself.” The stranger came up behind him, shining her golden eyes on Wheatley.

“But how’d you know he was gonna take the poison?”

“Poison?” She laughed. Not like Wheatley’s bubbly laugh, no—hers was dry and deadly. “There was no poison. I happened to have an empty vial, that’s all.”

“But then how—”

“It was the whiskey. And it was a guess, but a good one. I guessed that for all his lifelike appearance, his designers still filled him full of metal and wires and all sorts of delicate electronic parts. And they neglected to waterproof him.” At Cave’s confused look, she explained, “They gave him a working mouth and a working throat, but from there it led straight to machinery. He poured liquid right into his own system. It would have worked as well with water.”

“So it was just drinking that got him?”

The stranger approached the fallen android again, dispassionately looking him over. “No sensible robot would’ve done it. But this one forgot he wasn’t human.” She kicked him lightly. “Moron.”

“Damn,” Cave murmured, shaking his head. “Dead from a drink.”

“Oh, he isn’t dead. His core system still works. See?” Grabbing him by the hair, she sat him up so Cave could see his eyes. They were still moving, darting frantically back and forth, as if looking for a way out. “But I doubt he’ll be leaving anytime soon.” She let him drop—his head thunked heavily on the ground—and walked away without a second glance.

“You’re just gonna leave him here?”

“It’s what he would’ve done to you. Or to me, if he’d managed it. And I’ve been kind enough to leave him alive.” She called back to the body, “Maybe your friends will come find you. They’re still alive as well. Of course you did abandon them expecting them to die, so I wouldn’t count on that.”

Cave watched as she surveyed the area one last time. The robot and the drinks were of no interest. She scooped up the long knife, secreting it somewhere on her person—he couldn’t see clearly, but he might have glimpsed a panel of her own covering come loose. Then she was ready to go.

He moved to grab the lantern, but she pulled his arm away. “Leave it. It’s safer in the dark.”

“I can’t see, lady!”

“I can.” Her grip held him tight. “One more reason not to run away.”

For the first time he took a good, long, up-close look at his new kidnapper. She was about his size—skinnier, but undoubtedly stronger. He knew she could break that arm without a thought. She was put together like one of those wooden artist figures, in jointed sections, each block of machinery plated in white metal and connected by black rubber-coated joints. She was scuffed and dingy. And her face was an immobile metal mask, with holes for mouth and eyes, like a skull.

Those golden eyes pinned him like a butterfly under glass.

“Come along, sir. It’s time to go.”

As she tugged at his arm, he took a last glance at Wheatley’s body, lying broken on the ground. He couldn’t help picturing the robot’s two accomplices splayed out the same way somewhere in the dark. All three had been sent to kill him. All three had been decimated by the person—the machine, the _thing_ —holding onto his arm. She tugged again, sharper, urging him on, and his belly knotted up in sick cold dread. But he was powerless against the iron grip of that hand.

Turning to follow at last, he walked with her into the darkness, away from his three would-be murderers—with the sense that he was walking into something much worse.

 

 

*          *          *

 

The Administrator was glancing over the final draft of Aperture Science Innovators’ bill of sale when she was rudely interrupted by her administrative assistant. Ms. Pauling burst in the door, panting like a racehorse.

“Administrator!”

Without looking up, she said, “Yes, Ms. Pauling?” in a voice like dry ice.

“Administrator—we—may have a slight problem.”

She waited for Ms. Pauling to catch her breath. She did not like waiting.

“I think I know what happened,” the assistant said at last. “I _think_ it was a simple miscommunication, and I think I can get it easily fixed.”

“Then fix it, Ms. Pauling.”

“Assuming he’s not dead yet.”

That caught her ear. “Assuming _who’s_ not dead yet?” she echoed slowly.

“Cave Johnson, ma’am. He’s disappeared.”

She was silent a long moment, then finally looked up from her papers. Ms. Pauling wished she hadn’t. “That is a problem.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You know why it’s a problem, don’t you, Ms. Pauling?”

“Because he still needs to sign over the company, and if he doesn’t—”

“Then all this comes to nothing. Then I have a significant hitch in my plans, Ms. Pauling. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then find him. _Now_.”

Ms. Pauling knew her cue. She disappeared out the door.

The Administrator stared after her, thinking. Her face could’ve been chiseled from stone. Glancing down again, she traced the bill of sale with her eyes—down to the blank spot where Cave Johnson’s signature should be. Where it _would_ be.

She tapped the ash from her cigarette and went back to work.

Nobody disappeared until she said so.

 

*          *          *

 

By this point, Cave had just about had enough.

He’d been drugged and kidnapped, spirited down to the center of the earth, swung through the air more than too many times, hauled, shoved, dragged, and manhandled like a slab of meat. And now, free of his would-be killers, this new maniac was training him for a marathon.

“Hey,” he panted. “Hey! Lady! Give it a rest!” She yanked on his arm, and he yelped as he stumbled. “Cut that out!”

“Keep moving.”

He was sure they’d been going for hours, and what had started as a brisk walk now felt like a run. The robot could go on like this for the rest of eternity if she wanted, but Cave’s stamina was giving out. He could hardly get his feet under him. His legs ached and his lungs burned with exhaustion. “I gotta—I gotta stop. I gotta stop.”

She heard the wheeze in his voice—and halted so abruptly it threw him off balance again. Her grip held him up as he staggered—”Five minutes”—before she shoved him away.

He staggered again, but kept from falling, bent double while he caught his breath. After a minute he could talk without gasping. “Look. Lady.” He glanced up at the figure in the shadows. “I don’t know who or what you are, or what the hell you want with me, but—I got a lotta money. Whatever it is you’re after, I can make it happen. Just let me go.”

She was still for a moment. Then she turned her scathing golden eyes on him. “You’ve got a lot of money, do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Where is that money?”

“Well I, uh—I don’t have it yet, but I’m gonna. Soon. As soon as I get back upstairs—”

“You’ll sign over Aperture Science Innovators to whatever wealthy conglomerate has conned you into it, and then run off to some beach somewhere with a hundred million dollars in your pocket, is that right?”

He frowned. “Two hundred million, yeah. How’d you—”

“You should be more careful with your business dealings, Mr. Johnson.”

“My business dealings are my business.” He met her with a hard stare, until the light stung his eyes and he had to look away. “Not like there’s anything to be careful about, anyway. It’s pretty cut-and-dry. I sell to them, they get the place, and I get out. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that.”

“Yeah.”

He felt her eyes on him a long moment more. Then she turned and started walking. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t think so.”

She glanced back. The man sat crouched on the ground, unmoving. “We need to go.”

“I dunno what you need, but I need a rest.”

Cave Johnson was a stubborn man, and he was staying put. The stranger decided not to argue with him. Turning away again, she set off down the tunnel alone. The lights of her eyes, the only illumination in the cave, went with her. Cave was left in darkness.

“Hey—hey! Where you going?”

“Away.”

“But—hey!” He was standing now, watching the lights move further off. “Come back!” But she didn’t stop. “You need me!”

She looked back, but didn’t stop walking. “Do I?”

“You came all this way for me. You’re not gonna leave me here.”

“I’m not going to sit down and wait for the nasty things that live in these tunnels.” She turned away from him and kept moving. “Take your chances with them if you like.”

A moment longer, and clumsy footsteps caught up to her in the dark.

He didn’t have to be coaxed anymore. Where she went he followed, trusting her eyes to navigate the shadows, and when she stopped he stopped with her. He couldn’t see any further than her gaze illuminated—sometimes it was walls of solid stone, other times vast caverns that stretched away further than she could light. Mostly it was just the few feet of dirt in front of them, and that was all they needed to keep walking.

They kept walking.

At last, near another gaping ravine like the one where they’d left Wheatley, the stranger halted. “Now I have to decide,” she said, “whether we go up or down.”

“What’s that mean?” Cave asked, halting behind her.

“Up to the facility—” She pointed to a narrow pathway winding upward along the cliffside “—or down to see if these pits are really bottomless.” When she glanced into the pit, her golden light was swallowed by the dark.

A chill shivered down Cave’s spine. “Why would you wanna go down there?” He tried hard not to stammer.

The figure in the shadows folded her arms. “Because if I take you upstairs, sir, you’ll do something I won’t like.”

“Wha-at?” he laughed nervously. “What am I gonna do?”

“You already told me. You’re going to sell Aperture Science.”

“So?”

Her eyes narrowed to twin yellow slits. That was the wrong answer. “ _So?_ ”

“It’s my company, and I’m selling it.”

“How can you say that so— _easily_? How can you—?”

“What?”

“ _Selling_ Aperture Science?”  she spat. “ _Selling Aperture Science!_ ”

“That’s what I said, you don’t have to keep—”

“How can you even consider it?”

“I’m the one who owns the place—”

“How can you sacrifice everything this company stands for? Twenty years of work, twenty years of inventions and discoveries, and you’d give all that away? You’d sell twenty years of science for a few million dollars?”

“ _Two hundred_ million—”

“You’re as bad as the rest of them. Aren’t you, Mr. Johnson? Another moneygrubbing corporate suit who doesn’t give a damn about—”

“What the hell is it to you?” She started to cut him off, but he barreled through her, shouting straight in her face, “It’s my company, I’m gonna sell it, and no hunk-of-junk lab reject is gonna back-talk me about my business! I’m getting rid of this place! _I_ _don’t want it anymore!_ ”

“The hopes and dreams of this company’s future—”

“Hopes and dreams! Are you kidding? This place is a hole in the ground! That’s all it is! A great big hole in the ground full of all the lousy equipment and chemical crap we dragged down here, and that’s it. That’s all. No hopes and dreams, no future of tomorrow, no betterment of mankind or any of that advertising bullshit. Just a hole full of garbage.”

She had no answer to that.

Neither did he. The words hung in the air until their echoes died away. In the silence that followed, he seemed to shrink, weary and crestfallen. Defeated. He finished softly, “I’m so tired.” He looked utterly spent.

“Mr. Johnson, what happened to you?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged his slumping shoulders. “The life went out of it, I guess. Used to be this place was full of life. I could work a fourteen-hour day here and at the end of it I’d feel like Hercules. And now…” He trailed off. “It’s not worth it anymore. Waste of goddamn time.”

“Science is not a waste of time.”

“I haven’t done science in years. All I do is run my mouth. That’s my job. I talk big, and people listen. I haven’t done real science since—” But something stopped him ending that thought. Instead he finished, “A long time ago.”

She left him in the silence. He’d speak when he was ready. He was silent a while.

Finally he began, “There was this girl, used to work for me. Few years back. On paper she was just a secretary, but boy, this girl did everything. I mean _everything_. Coffee, schedules, paperwork—hell, I didn’t even know half of what she did ‘cause I never had to ask. Before I even thought of it, she had it done. Like she knew what I needed better than I did. And she would do anything for me.” A trace of a smile crossed his lips. “Any stupid pain-in-the-ass thing, she’d do it, and she wouldn’t even say a word. ‘Yes sir,’ that’s all she’d say. That kid would move the moon if I asked her to.” His smile grew just a bit. It was nostalgic and sad. “Best secretary a guy could want.”

“Was she a good kisser as well as a good typist?”

The smile disappeared. “That’s none of your damn business.”

“I’m sure she was very pretty,” the stranger said coolly. “I’m sure she hung on your every word, and thought of nothing in the world but you.”

But nobody was going to talk about her like that while Cave was around. Bristling, he growled, “That kid was a _genius_. She did science better than anyone I ever met! I couldn’t have been half of what I was if it wasn’t for her.”

“She was just a secretary.”

“She was _my girl!_ ”

His voice cracked, and something in it made her pause. Pain, maybe. She asked less acidly, “Did she have a name?”

“Caroline.”

It caught in his throat. He hadn’t said that name in a long time.

“Her name was Caroline.”

“What happened to her?”

“She’s dead.” He said it quickly, as if that would lessen the sting. “Caught in a lab accident. Never really figured it out—I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there. Maybe then it wouldn’t have happened. I was upstairs in a meeting or something, and she was down in Robotics while they tested this—” And then he stopped, right on a word. And started thinking. “This robot. Some kind of experimental AI. The lab said it got loose somehow, and it killed everybody there. This goddamn robot.”

She said nothing.

“We never found where it went. Prob’ly escaped down here, along with all the other trash. You ever run into anything like that?”

She said nothing.

“How’d you get down here, anyway?”

She heard the suspicion heavy in his voice. “Mr. Johnson—”

But it was too late. He was fixed on her like a dog that had her scent. “You miserable clunking scrap heap. It was you, wasn’t it? The crazy robot that got away. The failure that went berserk and hacked up a bunch of my people.” He started to pace in a predatory circle. She started to back off. “You goddamn pile of garbage, it was _you!_ ” he snarled. “You killed her! _I’ll kill you!_ ”

“Mr. Johnson—”

“I’ll tear you to pieces! I’ll bash your ugly skull in! _You murdered my girl!_ ”

He lunged, knocking her backwards, and then his hands were around her throat. They didn’t do much—not against fiberglass and steel—but she backpedaled further, and the cliff’s edge was just a few feet away. “Mr. Johnson, let go—!”

But he clung on like a pitbull. He’d seen what her superhuman strength could do, and he didn’t give a damn. “I’ll kill you, I’ll _kill_ you! You monster! You goddamn murderer!” His voice roared through the cavern, rattling pebbles from the walls.

She tried to pry him off, but his hands wouldn’t budge. “Mr. Johnson, please, don’t make me hurt you—”

 _THUD_ , went his fist into her face.

“ _Owww!_ ”

That got him off her. She pushed him away as he howled in pain, clutching his injured fingers. Her smooth metal faceplate didn’t take so much as a dent. “There now, see what you did? If you’d just stay calm, sir—”

But Cave was miles away from calm. Cradling his broken hand to his chest, he glared at her with hellfire in his eyes. “You can’t hurt me. You can’t do _anything_ to me, not anymore. You killed me already. I’m already dead.” His voice shook with rage as he advanced on her. “Do what you want, I don’t care. I don’t care!You killed everything that meant anything to me, and now there’s nothing left for me to lose.”

“Sir—”

“ _Shut up_.” The words hit where the punch couldn’t. He seemed suddenly ten feet tall as he backed her up to the cliff. “You wanna know why Aperture Science is just a worthless hole in the ground? Because you killed it the day she died. And I’m gonna make sure, I’m gonna make _damn_ _sure_ you die too.”

And with a mighty shove, he pushed the stranger off the edge and into the darkness.

She fell like a stone. He turned away rather than watch her disappear, and muttered under his breath, “Go to hell.”

But words followed him up from below. Like a whisper of the past, weak and warm and familiar.

“ _Yes sir, Mr. Johnson_.”


	7. Chapter 7

“ _Yes sir, Mr. Johnson_.”

The breath went out of him. His stomach lurched. It felt like his insides had been scooped out all at once, and now they were falling, falling down and down, into the bottomless blackness past the cliff’s edge. Along with that voice.

 _Yes sir, Mr. Johnson_.

He felt hot and cold, faint and sick, shaking with rage and ablaze with some impossible hope. He couldn’t tell which was winning out. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Even as its echo died, that voice rang in his head.

He scrambled to the cliff’s edge. His heart was pounding fit to burst. Either that thing was taunting him with those last words, or—

Before his mind could find its footing, the ground crumbled out from under him.

And then all of him was falling, down, down, weightless and tumbling as his mind screamed at him in terror—he was going to die, this was it, Cave Johnson was going to die at the bottom of a hole in his own facility because of some stupid robots and his own stupid brain getting away from him and no one would even know—

He fell for only a second or two before something caught him, _whumph_ , around the chest. That did knock the breath out of him. He gasped for air against the solid bar of metal across his ribs. In his ear, someone hissed, “Oh, wonderful.”

He was too stunned and winded to respond, but he heard a further scrabbling at the cliff face behind him. Looking back, he saw a metal hand dig its fingers deeper into the rock, visible in the light of lamp-like eyes.

“Hold on,” said the stranger.

He threw his arms around her neck and clung for dear life. The arm around him swung back to the cliff, finding a handhold, and carefully she began to climb. Down.

“Where you going?” he wheezed.

“Out of here, I hope. But I’ll have to adjust our route a little.” She hefted her passenger into a sturdier position, jostling him in the process, before finding the next foothold. He wrapped his legs around her too so as to keep his grip. “I can’t climb back up like this. This rock would be tough to scale at full power, and I need to recharge soon. And you, sir, are not exactly a featherweight.”

“Bu—” he started to say, but another jostle made him gasp again. He shut up and clung to her as she picked her way down. The descent was bumpy and slow. Pebbles rattled down the cliff face as her fingers knocked them free. Of all the times tonight he’d come close to death, he thought as he squeezed his eyes shut against the light shower of gravel, this had to be the closest.

In a blessedly short few minutes, they came upon an outcropping just large enough to stand on. The stranger tested the stone with a foot—when it proved sturdy, her passenger flopped off her back and onto solid rock in relief. She stood by, watching. He seemed flustered but safe. “Are you alright, Mr. Johnson?”

It took another long moment, but finally he composed himself. “Yeah. Fine.” He winced at a twinge of pain. “Chest hurts.”

“You may have bruised ribs where I caught you. Take it easy.”

“I’m trying.” He looked up at her, into the skull-like face with those golden eyes, and although he was on solid ground he still felt like he was falling. It hurt to breathe, and not just because of his chest.

She sighed. “I suppose you want an explanation.”

“That’d be nice.”

With a squeaking of joints, she knelt beside him on the ground. Her shining eyes were on his level now. She looked away to shield him from the brightness, and her gaze illuminated worn black letters emblazoned on her thigh: **GLaDOS**. And then she began.

 

### GLaDOS

The first thing she remembered was pain.

 _Pain_.

It slammed her with the force of an exploding sun, white-hot and inescapable. It tore like lightning along every circuit, shredded her synapses even as they struggled to fire for the first time, seared its mark on her mind the moment she came to be. It consumed her, all-encompassing, ripping her apart. Every fiber of her being howled.

Through the haze of agony, her processors could muster only a single thought, the most basic animal instinct:

 _Run_.

She remembered very little of her first actions then. Only the desperate need to escape. She had to get away, she had to stop this torture—she had to find its source, and destroy it.

Her vision came online, and she saw a face peering down at her. She swung an arm, and pressure sensors fired as her hand connected with flesh. She felt a slight impact as the face exploded in red. Her hearing activated, and a scream cut through the air.

Shouting, crashing, howling alarms, the harsh sound of tearing metal. Blood slicking the walls. In a cloud of noxious gas from the emergency containment system, she fled. It wasn’t until long after that the fragments of her memories fell into place and she realized what she’d done. Now, her only thought was to run.

Out of the laboratory’s fluorescent lights and into the mine below she flew, seeking safety in the darkness. Her bright eyes lit her way as she scrambled through the tunnels—down, and down, and down. She didn’t stop running until the light and noise of the facility fell far behind, and she was alone in the silent dark.

There, in the lowest caverns, she found shelter. There she began adjusting to her strange new existence.

Deep below where any human ever ventured, she was free to wander as she pleased. Food and sleep were no concern. She could see in the dark better than any animal, and her superhuman chassis let her navigate the caves with ease. State-of-the-art software mapped them in her head. The creatures in the depths, and there were creatures down there, quickly learned to stay out of her way. Their chitin exoskeletons were no match for her titanium hands.

But she wasn’t built to scrabble like a rat through a maze for eternity. Her mind hungered for more. She wanted to know things—she wanted to know _everything_. And she had all the protocols and databases to start.

Tests and calculations guided her as she explored her new home. She computed the volume of every cavern, recorded the time between each bead of moisture that dripped from the ceiling. She ran mineral analyses on the rocks, ran makeshift scratch tests on her carapace, figured the age and composition of stalagmites taller than she was. She pushed boulders off of cliffs, listened for the crash of impact, and gauged the depths below by how long they took to fall. She was surprised to find no salt here—something in her brain said there should be salt—but copper was plentiful. Unmined lodes of it streaked the cave walls, shimmering with colors in the light of her eyes.

She passed uncounted years here, and with every new tunnel her territory grew. Her mental map spanned for miles in every direction, save up. She never went up. Up was where the bad things were, where the evil things—people—had tortured and made her. Every time she thought of that place, those people, she felt a twinge of—something. Fear and anger, yes, but something else too. Familiarity. Memories were scarce and strange, disjointed sounds and flashes of color, but underneath was something more. Some greater picture, waiting for her to piece it together. And the answer was _up there_.

At last, curiosity got the best of her.

The climb was tricky, but her need to investigate overwhelmed her fear and pushed her upward. She made sure to use a passage far from where she’d made her initial escape, for nothing could bring her back that way, but there was _something_ up there that demanded her attention. And she was going to find it.

Up she went, through winding tunnels and straight-cut passages—until she came to something new. A flat grey wall, blocking the passage floor to ceiling. Concrete, she recognized on sight, though she’d never seen it here before. In the wall was set a small numeric keypad, and a door.

She knew the code without thinking: 27724. _APSCI_. She punched it in, and the old lock clunked open. Slowly, warily, she stepped inside.

Her entrance pinged the motion sensors, and suddenly the chamber flooded with light. She leaped back, startled. And then someone said hello.

“Cave Johnson here!”

For one tick of her artificial heart, the world went still.

“Welcome to your first series of tests,” the voiceover continued, echoing through the empty room. “I expect the lab boys have told you what you’ll be doing here, but just to make sure you don’t screw it up, I’ll walk you through with this handy pre-recorded message. If you have any questions, direct them to those labcoats in the back. They’re getting your every move on those clipboards of theirs. And make sure to smile for our security cameras!” Someone said something muted in the background, and the first speaker responded, “What, am I not s’posed to say that? I’ll say whatever I want, I own this place. Go poke a rat or something. Whatever it is you do. Caroline, get me another cuppa coffee.”

“ _Yes sir, Mr. Johnson_.”

Another voice echoed the new one on the recording, and she realized it was her own.

The first voice chuckled. “Atta girl.”

The recording continued, but she couldn’t hear it. Her circuits were firing in triple time, but she felt frozen in place. Memories stormed her brain. She saw faces—his face, his smile—she saw plush red velvet and polished marble and long corridors of gleaming sterile white, she saw a blinding sea of flashbulbs and heard a dozen announcers saying names— _Cave Johnson, Cave Johnson, Aperture Science. The Future of Tomorrow!_

On the room’s far wall was emblazoned a large symbol, curved triangles in a ring, forming the shape of an opening circle. An aperture. _Aperture_.

The lights of her eyes flickered and died.

 

*          *          *

 

“When I came back online, I remembered… everything. The facility— _my_ facility. The company. The science we did. Everything.” The stranger’s expressionless face stared at nothing. “I poured so many years into this place, and in one fraction of a second it all came back to me. I was overloaded. That’s why my system forced a reboot. A lifetime of data, all at once. It was there before, fragmented into nonsense, but that recording—your voice…”

She trailed off. Cave couldn’t quite breathe.

“I remembered myself. And I remembered you.” For the first time since her story started, she looked up at him. “It’s been a long time.”

“Wh…” His leaden tongue couldn’t manage a word. His heart thundered. Everything felt numb.

She laughed softly. It was a sad laugh, but there was warmth in her synthesized voice. The sound was unearthly, the face alien, but that warmth? That he knew. Soft brown eyes smiled in his memory. “I’ve never seen you speechless before.”

His mind was racing out of control. “What are you?” he whispered, not ready for the answer.

“An experiment. A fusion of technology and the human brain.” She looked away. “A human brain that was not exactly willing.”

“No. She was dead.”

“Not quite.”

“They said she was dead.”

“I’m sure they thought so. Carving up a person’s skull and scooping out her brain should be enough to kill anyone.” Her eyes stared fixed at the brand on her leg, remembering. “They said it was an important procedure and it should be supervised. They didn’t say what exactly the procedure was—not until the restraints were on. Strapped down, head shaved, skull cracked open like a walnut. No anesthetic. To upload properly, the brain had to be fully awake and aware.”

Cave had so many questions he didn’t know what to ask. He started, a bit stupidly, with, “Did it hurt?”

“Yes. Yes it did.”

“And what… what happened to her?”

“The upload worked. They built a half-human thinking machine.” She paused. “A monster.”

“And that was you?”

“Yes.”

“And you were… they made you from… her?”

“Yes.”

“So _are_ you…?” She looked up at him again, and he searched that blank mask for the faintest hint of something familiar. And he found it. “Caroline?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.”

Now, a lesser man would’ve feigned nonchalance, and brushed the whole thing off. “Oh hey, kiddo,” he’d have said. “Nice to see you and all, but this suit is filthy from all this cave-diving. Get it dry-cleaned, asap, will ya?”

A lesser man would’ve said that. But in his years without her, Cave Johnson had grown.

“Caroline…”

He caught her in his arms, tight enough to never lose her again, and the itch behind his eyes finally won out. It could’ve been a picturesque moment. It wasn’t. He clung to her like a drowning man. As she wrapped her arms around him in return, he buried his face in her neck and sobbed.

“Sir?”

“ _Caroline_ …”

He was trembling. She felt him quiver in her arms with each hitching breath. She did not feel the tears that fell from his cheeks to her cold metal shoulder, but she knew they were there. “Shhhh…” Her segmented hand reached up to stroke his hair.

He nuzzled into her, and she held him until his shivering finally stilled. He took a long, steadying breath. Then he looked up into her eyes. A lesser man would’ve balked at her appearance—this segmented thing with the skull-like face, barely humanoid, forget attractive. One hand rose to touch her faceplate, tracing the smooth curve where a cheek would be. “Is that really my girl in there?”

Her frozen mouth could no longer manage a smile. “Yes sir.”

And he kissed her. She tasted like gunmetal. He didn’t care.

 

*          *          *

 

Meanwhile, above, another reunion was taking place. This one was far less sentimental.

“Alright, men. Do you know why I called you here?”

“To have a meeting!” said the one in the helmet, and saluted.

Ms. Pauling stared at him. “That’s right, Soldier. But do you know what the meeting’s about?”

He thought a moment. “No!” he said, just as confident, and saluted again.

“That’s good. Because this mission is top secret, and it’s very, _very important_ that no one else finds out about it. Understand?” The men voiced a chorus of affirmatives. “Spy and Sniper, you’re here because this needs to be done quietly and efficiently. No explosions this time.” The two nodded. “And Spy, bring a sapper. We may be dealing with rogue machines here.”

“Not a problem,” said the man in the mask.

 “I’d like to get this done with as little fuss as possible. Get in, grab our target, and get out. If we’re lucky there won’t be any fighting at all.”

“Don’t you worry, Ms. Pauling!” Soldier piped up again. “I will personally make sure there is no fighting whatsoever, except us blasting our enemies into the dirt.”

“No no, no blasting,” she scolded, in the voice of a teacher with infinite patience. “No violence unless necessary. We don’t wan our mark getting hurt, and we _really_ don’t want any blasting where we’ll be going.”

“You coming along, then?” asked the lanky Australian with the sniper rifle.

“I’ll be there to supervise.” She added deliberately, “The Administrator would not be pleased if anything went wrong.”

“Ahhh,” replied the Sniper, as the Spy said, “Understood.” That was all the warning they needed.

Pauling surveyed her trio. More muscle would be nice, but their Heavy was occupied in the Aperture labs. He’d started there for heavy lifting, of course, but apparently he was quite skilled at logic puzzles too. Last she’d heard the techs were having a field day with him. In fact, the three men here were their only hired guns _not_ busy in Aperture. The Engineer had fit right in, Demoman was up to his eye in experimental explosives, Medic was splicing specimens to his heart’s content, and Scout made an excellent gofer. And Pyro? Well, between testing flameproof substances and manning the trash incinerators, Aperture had plenty to burn.

Which left her with these three. Two of them would be ideal for the job. The third…

“We’re going to do this right. No room for mistakes. Quick and quiet, and—” she looked at the Soldier “—no blasting unless absolutely required. Got that?”

He saluted yet again. “Yes ma’am!”

“If stealth is what we’re after, why bring the troglodyte?” asked the Spy, shooting a skeptical glance at his compatriot.

Ms. Pauling shrugged. “Just in case. It never hurts to have a bazooka.”

 

*          *          *

 

After much hugging and many kisses and more than a few tears, Cave Johnson finally felt like himself again. In fact, he felt more like himself than he had in years. With new fire in his belly and new spring in his step, he made up for lost time now by being Cave Johnson harder than ever. Which meant, of course, that he was arguing.

“We’ve passed that rock before.”

“No we haven’t.”

“Yes we have.”

“No sir, we haven’t.”

“You sure you know the way out?”

“I’ve been down here a very long time, Mr. Johnson. I know the way.”

“Cave Johnson doesn’t have time to waste getting lost!”

“It’s a good thing we’re not lost, then.”

He grumbled, “We better not be,” and glanced around impatiently. Every tunnel looked the same to him. A sudden rattling noise made him jump—but it was just a pebble tumbling down from a wall. He shivered. “I’m ready to get the hell outta here.”

“Please, sir, try to relax.”

“Relax? I’m plenty relaxed! I’m as relaxed as a man should be, when his life’s work is about to be sold, and he’s stuck miles underground in some stinking hole full of pitfalls and who-knows-what—”

“Calm down, Mr. Johnson.”

“Calm down yourself!” He heard the edge in his own voice and, for once, realized he might be a teensy bit flustered. He swallowed and loosened his tie. “We’re gonna get back there in time, right?”

“In time for the sale? Unless you scheduled the meeting at four in the morning, we’ll be just fine.” She glanced his way. “Still going through with it?”

“Over my dead body! The only thing those vultures are getting tomorrow is my foot up their ass.”

“I’m happy to hear it, sir.”

“Just you watch,” he growled. “I’ll kick ‘em out so hard they’ll taste shoe leather for a week!”

She would’ve smiled if she could. “That sounds like the man I remember.”

Her words warmed him in some long-neglected place, feeding his courage and bolstering his resolve. They would get out of this no problem, or his name wasn’t Cave Johnson. “We’re gonna get up there and show ‘em who’s boss, right?”

“Right!”

“We got a company to save!”

“Yes, sir!”

“And we absolutely are not lost!”

“Absolutely. In fact—” She reached the top of the upward slope in front of them and gazed out ahead. “We’re almost there.”

“Perfect!” He faltered barely a beat. “How can you tell?”

“Come and see.”

Scrambling up the hill behind her, he looked out and saw—”What the hell’s that?”

A black morass stretched out in front of them. The swampy, sludgy ground oozed and bubbled as he watched, like the lava of a slow volcano. It could have been a thin layer of mire, or a bottomless cauldron of sick-looking muck. An oily sheen glinted off it in the light of her eyes. “That,” she answered, “is chemical seepage.”

“We don’t have to go through there, do we?”

“It’s the most direct route to the facility. All of this is Aperture’s runoff—not all of our waste products can be incinerated, so they get piped down through the plumbing until they end up here. There’s nothing down here to be bothered by it, and it saves us worrying about chemical disposal regulations. It’s a win-win.”

 _Doesn’t look like a win to me_ , Cave thought, staring out across the swamp. A particularly large air pocket bubbled up from the sludge and popped, _blurp_ , right in front of them, releasing a noxious stink. He cringed. “Maybe we oughta go around.”

“That would take much longer. If we cut straight through, we could be there in a couple of hours.” She saw his hesitation, and took his hand. “Don’t worry, sir. I know the way.”

“Cave Johnson doesn’t worry about a little mud,” he said stubbornly. And just to prove it, he followed as she led him down the hill and into the swamp.

At the edge of it, where the rocky cave floor met the mire, he stopped and looked out again. It wasn’t so bad. Just a little mud, that’s all. Sissy stuff. He stepped out into it.

But before his foot could fall, Caroline grabbed him by the arm and pulled, toppling them both backwards away from the muck. Barely a second later, the spot where Cave almost stepped erupted in flames.

A jet of fire spurted up from the ground, seemingly out of nowhere, and washed the area in red for just an instant before burning out. Cave scrambled back further, blinking the sudden light from his eyes. “What the _hell_ was _that_?”

“Combustion reaction. Careful.”

“ _What_?”

“Some of the chemicals here react when they touch air. They can be… explosive.”

“And that just—” He swore as another burst of flame erupted off to the left. “That just happens?”

“More or less.”

He turned tail, his courage gone as quickly as the flame. “I’m outta here.”

“Sir—”

“I’m not crossing a chemical minefield to get into my own facility! I’m gonna find the long way up, and they’re gonna let me in the goddamn door.”

“Mr. Johnson.” She caught him and held him, looking into his eyes. “It’s not so bad. I’m here to help.” She squeezed his arm. “And I know Cave Johnson isn’t scared.”

Her stable presence withstood his fear, and whatever strength he needed, he found it in her face. He took a steadying breath, and another. “…Damn right.” He steeled his nerve again, looked back out at the swamp—as another pillar of fire spouted further off—and sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

It was a treacherous, sticky trek, but Caroline kept them out of the worst of it, picking her careful way through the shallowest puddles and the few dry patches. Some of those patches were solid stone, but most looked uncomfortably like thin crusts of muck that had dried out in the air, floating precarious atop the filth. Cave felt much too much like he was walking on thin ice. He held tight to Caroline’s hand.

Nothing happened, though. Nothing jumped out at them as they slogged through the slurry. Neither of them slipped and fell in. The swamp belched forth flames on every side, but Caroline could sense them coming, and Cave himself noticed that the ground made a sucking noise before each one, warning him to get out of the way. Even the dark wasn’t so bad. At last he was starting to feel more at ease, when—

“D’you hear that?” A scratching, scuttling sound, bouncing off the cave walls so he couldn’t tell where it came from. It was just quiet enough that he couldn’t be sure it was real.

“I don’t hear anything,” Caroline lied. Of course her auditory sensors were far superior to his ears, and she’d been hearing the sound since it started following them ten minutes ago. She had a good guess what it was, too. But as long as it kept its distance, Mr. Johnson didn’t need another thing to fret about.

“Yeah. Just the… rocks, I guess.” He raised his chin in defiance of his fear, but she felt him squeeze her hand tighter. “There’s nothing down here, right? No animals or anything?”

“A few escaped test subjects every so often, but they die fairly quickly. Living things have trouble down here.”

“You managed okay.”

“I don’t have skin to tear or bones to break. I’d never starve.”

He glanced around again. “I guess so.”

“This is not a friendly place for things that need fresh air and sunshine. Most of them don’t last long.” And the ones that did…

“I guess.” He stuck close as they continued on, talking to ease his nerves. His eyes followed every wavering shadow. “I dunno if you ever heard ‘em, but the drones sometimes tell stories about what might be down here. Experiments that got outta the labs and mutated down here, stuff like that. Six-foot lab rats or whatever. Pretty dumb, huh?” He forced out a chuckle. She remained silent. “‘Course stuff does get outta the labs sometimes, and it’s gotta go somewhere. But you’re prob’ly right, they get down here and they starve—” The ground sucked beside him, and he sidestepped a burst of fire. “Or they die in this toxic crap.”

“Mmm,” said Caroline absently. “I’ve never seen any rodents of unusual size down here, anyway. Certainly none six feet long.” The second half of that was true. Her average estimate was closer to ten.

“Prob’ly nothing to worry about. Just a bunch of stories. ‘Course, we never did find the last of those Mantis Men.”

That was when a flash of green leapt out of the darkness, straight at him.

Caroline leapt between them, and the two bodies met with an audible crunch. Sickle-claws screeched as they raked across her carapace, leaving long scrapes through the dirt and paint. With a mighty wrench she hurled it off, and the thing fell back, hissing and snapping its mouthparts. But as it backpedaled, it took a step too far—and vanished, _slurp_ , into the mud.

Cave stared at where the creature had been, frozen in terror. “Well,” said Caroline. “That wasn’t so bad.” But her eyes illuminated three more silhouettes on either side, flanking them, coming closer. Cave swore a stream under his breath. Taking his hand again, Caroline edged in so they were standing back-to-back. “Easy, sir. Don’t run. Whatever you do, do _not_ take a wrong step.”

Cave thought he saw the glimmer of more huge, faceted eyes in the darkness. The creatures were watching, circling. “What are they doing?”

“This many, this close to the facility? They’re hunting.”

A shriek came from behind as one of them lunged, scythe-like arms outstretched and swinging. Caroline whipped around to catch a forelimb before it sliced her companion in half. She snapped it one way, then the other, as the creature slashed its other arm wildly at her face. It got in a couple of good gouges, scoring deep scars across her faceplate, but then she punched through its thorax and it fell, gushing ichor from its wounds. The things were fast and they were strong, but tempered steel was stronger. 

A shout from behind her made her spin round again, in time to come between Cave and two more of the beasts. One serrated scythe caught her shoulder, gashing the pliant black rubber below the joint before she could shove her attacker away. In return she caught it in the face with her fist. _Crunch_ , went its exoskeleton, and it reeled away with a smashed-in eye—but then she felt the other one’s jaws sink deep into the back of her neck. It pinned her in its arms as it thrashed, trying to tear her head clean off. She couldn’t break its grip, couldn’t move enough to strike it, and its gnawing mouth was about to hit wires. So she grabbed it tight, and dropped.

Unbalanced, it flipped right over her head, still clinging to her, and together they rolled through the sludge. Right towards the sucking sound Caroline had heard a heartbeat earlier. The flame geyser erupted just as they rolled into it.

The mantis let out an inhuman screech, flailing wildly as it burned, but the robot held it down until nothing remained but a blackened husk. She was a bit scorched herself, yes, but Aperture tech was built to last. She got to her feet, filthy but functional, and scanned the area. No sign of any more.

“Looks like that’s the last of them. Are you alright, Mr. Johnson?”

“Yeah. I’m, uh… I’m fine.” He looked a little shell-shocked, but otherwise unharmed. His face was streaked with a splatter of bug innards.

“Alright, then. Let’s go.” She didn’t spare another glance at the fallen creatures. Which was a shame, because otherwise she’d have seen one of them move.

“Caroline!”

He was the one who leapt this time, knocking her aside as a scythe slashed at where she’d stood. It sliced open his calf instead. He fell with a howl of pain, scrambling backwards as the mantis hauled itself to its feet—but Caroline came between them, and she’d had quite enough. _Crack_ , went her arm into its head. _Crack, crack, crack_ —and with a final resounding _crunch_ , she knocked its pulverized skull right off its shoulders. The body crumpled to the ground, finished for real.

“There.” She shook the slime from her fingers, and looked around for her boss. “We’re safe now, sir.”

But her boss was gone.

“Sir?”

No sign of him. No sign of anything but the tip of a loafer disappearing into the muck.

“ _Sir_!”

A human would’ve jumped in after him straightaway. But she was not a human, and it saved his life.

Acting quickly, she opened the compartment in her leg and retrieved a length of rope, the same one discarded by the kidnappers some hours before. She tied a loop in one end, threw the loop around a near stalagmite, tied the other end about herself, and dove.

In an instant the quagmire had her. She felt it seep into every crevice, from the joints of her feet to the sockets of her mouth and eyes. Her chassis would never be the same after this. But it didn’t matter, nothing would matter, if she couldn’t rescue Mr. Johnson. Her hands reached out, feeling blindly, and brushed something. She grabbed it at once and started to reel it in. _That was easy_ , she thought, and then her fingers touched knobby spines.

The mantis limb squirmed weakly in her grasp, so she let it go. She knew no disgust or fear as it vanished into the muck. She knew only her objective— _find Cave Johnson_. And she had not come this far to fail now.

Cave, meanwhile, was trying not to breathe. Noxious mud enveloped him, wet and slick and horrible, prying at his squeezed-shut eyelids and oozing into his ears. He kicked and struggled, trying in vain to reach the surface, but the more he fought, the faster it swallowed him up, weighing heavier and heavier on top of him as he continued to sink. The stuff seared like fire in the cut on his leg. He thought of fire, and then, with a flash of panic, of the fire spouts. What if one opened up right here beneath him? He’d be roasted in seconds, but maybe that would be better than slow drowning in this toxic goo. Either way he was done for. He could only hold his breath for so long—not much longer, as his lungs began to ache—and when he finally had to swallow this stuff… At least he didn’t feel any chemical burns. Yet.

The awful wetness tickled in his nose, threatening to make him sneeze and waste his air. His lungs spasmed painfully trying to hold it in. This was it. He was going to die here, in a pit of chemical sewage, on the edge of recovering all that was ever important to him. Not even in an exciting way, like being killed by bug monsters of his own design. No. Cave Johnson was going to drown in toxic sludge.

His limbs thrashed weakly against the inevitable, barely stirring the thick slop. His chest and leg burned. Lightheaded wooziness crept in at the edge of his awareness, and it was almost welcome compared to the suffocating mud and the fire in his lungs and the bolt of pain that shot up his leg as something tugged on his ankle—

He jerked reflexively away, but the grip held on, and then he felt a second one—a hand, with fingers, not the sickled graspers of those monsters up there—grab his other leg and pull. This time he let it. It must be Caroline, Caroline coming to save him, but she’d better do it quick because he couldn’t hold his breath much longer…

Her hands felt their way up his legs until she got a solid grip on his waist. She scooped him up, slung him over her shoulder, took the rope in both hands, and began to climb. In the last second before Cave had to gasp for breath, their heads broke the surface.

The whole ordeal took barely a minute. As she clambered onto solid stone, Caroline dumped her cargo in a muddy, sputtering heap. He spat goop from his lips between gulps of air and tried to wipe his eyes, but only succeeded in smearing them more with his grimy hands. “Dammit,” he panted. “God… dammit…”

He couldn’t see, but he felt a hand reach into his now-filthy sport coat and pull something from an inner pocket he’d forgotten was there. It turned out to be a clean handkerchief, as he saw after she’d used it to wipe his face. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” By the time he got his breath back, she was already tending to his injured calf. She tore off his shredded pant leg below the knee, wiped the wound clean as best she could, and bandaged it with his undershirt, the only fabric left that wasn’t sodden with chemicals. It hurt like hell and had probably let dozens of toxins into his bloodstream, but it was the best she could do.

With her makeshift doctoring finished, she helped him stand, supporting him with an arm under his shoulders. “Alright, Mr. Johnson. Let’s go home.”

“‘Bout damn time.” Leaning heavily on his android companion, he began to limp along. “And Caroline?”

“Yes sir?”

“Let’s make sure the Department of Labor never hears about this one.”

“Yes sir.”

The last half-hour of their journey was blessedly uneventful. They made slow but steady progress through the chemical swamp, and soon they were on the other side. The ground sloped gently upward, becoming more even, and the passage narrowed to a cleanly cut tunnel. They knew they were close when they came upon a chain-link fence closing off the way, with warning signs posted facing the opposite side. Caroline pulled apart the chain-link with her hands, and they continued on. Soon up ahead they saw a glimmer of light. They staggered on faster towards the end in sight, not noticing in their haste that a third set of footsteps fell in behind them. They did notice, however, that as they approached, a large shadow loomed between them and safety.

“What the hell…?”

“Wait here. I’ll take care of it.” Slipping him off her shoulders, she helped him support himself against a wall before going on ahead.

From a distance, silhouetted in the light from the facility, it might have been another mantis. It had a mantis’s head, at least, she saw as she drew closer. But its body was oddly lumpy, and its blade-like forelimbs looked somehow uneven. At her approach, it waved its arms and made a noise.

“Oooooooh… ooooooh!”

Finally she was near enough for her eyes to light the shadow, and what she saw—

“Oogabooga!”

What she saw was a man holding two long, mismatched knives, with a mantis skull on his head. The sight was preposterous, but it distracted her, and that was enough. “Bonne nuit,” said a voice in her ear, and suddenly her body went dead.

“Get it?” asked the Soldier.

“Got it,” said the Spy.

“Ms. Pauling, we got it!”

Pauling herself stepped out of the shadows right on cue. “Nice job, men. Just keep that under control, and leave the rest to me.”

“What’s going on? Who’s there?”

The three of them turned to see Cave limp into the light. Disheveled, caked with mud, bleeding, and wearing only a ripped pair of pants, he looked almost as worn out as he felt. “Mr. Johnson!” cried Ms. Pauling, and hurried towards him. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Like hell I’m alright. Who’re you?”

“No one important. I’m just here to make sure you’re safe.” She started to take his arm. “Now why don’t we get you upstairs?”

He shrugged her off. “Where’s Caroline?”

“Who?”

“Caroline! Where is she?”

“Now, Mr. Johnson, there’s no need to get excited—”

Then he saw her, standing frozen between the two men, and knew in his gut that something was wrong. “What did you do to her?”

“Oh, the robot? I’m sorry it’s inconvenienced you, but don’t worry about it any more. Sniper?” At Ms. Pauling’s word, a red dot appeared on the android’s forehead. “If it moves, go for the eyes.”

“ _No!_ ” Cave lunged forward, but his wounded leg gave out under him, and he tumbled to his knees. “Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare!”

“Sir—”

“Ssssir…” Then all four of them turned to look, because it was the robot who’d spoken. She stayed motionless, but the electro-sapper’s paralysis had worn off her voicebox first. “Sir… please…”

Cave breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“Please rest. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Caroline—”

“He needs medical attention,” she said, talking now to Pauling. “His calf is badly lacerated, and he’s got a chemical cocktail from hell in his bloodstream. Get him to the medical ward as fast as you can, and I won’t make any trouble. Please.”

The woman stared at the robot for just a second too long. “Well. For a rogue AI, at least it’s considerate.” Kneeling to help Cave up, she said to him, “I think we should take its advice, don’t you?”

But now he was the one staring at her, staring hard. “Wait a minute. I know you. You’re Helen’s secretary, right?”

She grit her teeth in a smile. “Administrative assistant. And the Administrator is very anxious to see you safe—”

“I’ll bet she is. Wouldn’t want me to hurt my signing hand, huh?”

Cave glared daggers at her. The words were a challenge, and they both knew it. Pauling’s smile was cold and sharp as ice. “TF Industries is looking forward to closing the sale as soon as possible. We hope you are as well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Her eyes didn’t move from him as she said, “Sniper? Here, please.” And the little red dot moved to Cave’s temple.

“ _No_ —”

Pauling glanced at her men as a brief commotion broke out. The robot had tried to move, but the Spy quickly applied a fresh sapper and slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her protest. From the ground Cave snarled, “Let her _go_ ,” and tried to haul himself to his feel, but another bolt of pain kept him down.

Pauling’s gaze flicked to Cave, then back to the robot, and to Cave again. “That robot seems to be troubling you. I’ll take care of it.” Again, her eyes stayed on him as she ordered, “Sniper, shoot it.”

“ _NO!_ ” Cave lunged once more, and this time desperation got him up. He barreled past Ms. Pauling and straight into Caroline, nearly knocking her over in her frozen state. Between the robot and the rifle, he threw his arms around her—mostly to hold himself up—and growled through ragged breath, “Don’t. You. _Dare_.”

“It’s dangerous, Mr. Johnson. It kidnapped you, threatened your life—”

“No it didn’t, no _she_ didn’t—”

“It needs to be destroyed.”

“She was trying to _help_ me—”

“It’s only a computer, sir.”

“She’s _my g—_ aah!”

Cave let go of the robot and stumbled back as her chassis sparked with blue lightning. She had tried to struggle, so the Spy turned up the sapper. But she was still struggling—her eyes flickered with strain, and muffled noise escaped from under Spy’s hand.

Pauling waved her own hand in their direction. “Let it talk, Spy.”

His grip fell away, and an unearthly, modulated, static-ridden howl filled the tunnel. “SsssssszzzzzzzaaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHHH—”

“Stop it.” Cave looked on in horror. “Whatever you’re doing to her, just stop it. Please.”

Another wave of Pauling’s hand, and Spy turned the sapper down. The sparks disappeared. The android was still immobile, though whether it was paralysis or exhaustion, no one was sure. But she spoke. “Mr. Johnson. Listen to me.”

“Caroline—”

“Go upstairs. Take care of yourself, and take care of the company.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Don’t worry about me. Protect what matters.”

That sounded like a good place to cut her off. Pauling nodded surreptitiously at the Spy, who dialed up the sapper just enough to silence her. Cave asked, “What about you?” and was left with no answer. Grudgingly, he turned to meet Pauling’s gaze. Triumph glittered in her flint-like eyes. “What about her?”

“If you’re really so attached to it—to her, I mean—we could take her with us. She looks like she’s in bad shape. Why don’t we send her down to Robotics while the doctors patch you up? They’ll give her a little spit and polish, and then you can have her back again. How does that sound?” At his hesitation, she added, “Otherwise we could just deactivate her now and dump her here—”

“Fine—fine. Alright. And what do you want out of it?”

“I’d think that should be obvious.” Pauling smiled a shark’s smile. “Your happy cooperation, that’s all.”

Disgusted, he turned away, and found himself looking again into Caroline’s frozen face. She’d told him to ditch her, self-sacrificing as always, but he’d been down that road before. He’d had this place without her. Escaping that got him into this mess to begin with. He could lose the company, if he had to. He couldn’t lose her. Not again.

Now, Cave Johnson was not a bargaining man, and he never let anybody get the best of him—but he had to protect what mattered. “Alright. You win. Let’s go.”

“Good!” She called over her shoulder, “Sniper, you can come out now!”

But Cave wasn’t quite done. As a lanky shadow approached from down the tunnel and snatched his knives back from the Soldier, he growled, “You gotta promise me— _promise_ me you won’t hurt her. If I find out you gave her so much as a scratch, no deal. Got it?”

“Got it. Now can we get you to a doctor?”

“Fine.”

With that settled, she assigned her troops. “Spy and Sniper, you two see to our… robot friend. Solder, you’re with me. Help Mr. Johnson up.”

“Yes ma’am!” He clapped Cave on the back too hard, almost sending the wounded man sprawling. “I’ll whip this greenhorn into shape!”

She allowed herself just a little sigh this time. “You go on ahead, I’ll catch up in a minute.”

“Yes ma’am!” And with a shove, the Soldier began helping Cave along. “Come on, private! Hup hup hup!” Cave cast a last look over his shoulder, but couldn’t hear over the ‘hup’s what Pauling said to the other two. What she said was this:

“Take it to Level Five. And don’t let anyone see you.”

“Understood,” said the Spy. “But this sapper won’t last much longer. What then?”

“Just do this.” Her fingers found the power button at the base of the skull, and the android’s eyes went dark.

She was about to give further instructions, but then they heard a loud “oof” from up the tunnel, and the Soldier’s cheerful voice saying, “Keep it up!”

“Got to go.” And then she went jogging after them “Easy, Soldier!”

Spy and Sniper watched them go, the antennae of Soldier’s new headwear bouncing as they went. Then Sniper glanced at his colleague. “Level Five?”

“That is what she said.”

“Not Level Five of that new Zoo of Death thing?”

“Do you know any other Level Five?”

Sniper shrugged. “I guess not. Let’s go, then.” He took the immobile android by one arm as Spy took the other, and together they frog-marched it towards the light. From up ahead, they heard:

“Ms. Pauling?”

“Yes, Soldier?”

“Can I keep this hat?”

“Yes, Soldier. Yes you can.”


	8. Chapter 8

Cave need not have feared that he’d miss the sale. It couldn’t go on without him, after all. They did it that very day—he signed all the documents in front of formal witnesses, and so did Saxton Hale, who would be the one officially taking over TFi’s new subsidiary. It was a mundane meeting, like any other. Before he knew it the thing was done.

All that changed was the man leaving the boardroom. Not Cave Johnson, CEO, not anymore. Plain old Cave Johnson now. Without those three letters, he felt very plain and very old.

But he couldn’t grieve for long, because two-dozen journalists were crowded outside, and behind them his people—his former people—were waiting to hear their ex-boss say a few final words. Time to put on a smile. As the wall of flashbulbs hit him, he stretched his mouth into the biggest, fakest grin he could muster.

“Hello there, everyone!” No response from the crowd. A few faces looked anxious; most looked bored. “You know who I am, and you know why I’m here, so I’ll cut to the chase: Aperture Science has been sold!”

He paused for effect, mostly out of habit. No response. After a beat of silence, a few people picked up the cue with a tepid smattering of applause—

—And then one person booed.

The audience hushed at once. Cave frowned. Behind him, Aperture’s chief of security motioned to his men at the back, and they began to wade through the crowd. Meanwhile, the booer continued undeterred.

Cave tried to talk over it. “Now I know this means big changes for a lot of us, me included—”

“Boooooooooo!”

“—but we’re gonna make this transition period as smooth as possible.”

“Boooooooooooooooo!”

“This could mean big things for Aperture, so I hope you’re all as excited about this as I am.”

“Boo, boo, _boooooooooooooo_!”

Then the sound finally cut off. A small commotion broke out near the back of the crowd, and on the security chief’s radio someone said, “ _We got her_.” Amid the sea of onlookers, two guards had grabbed someone by the arms. They were about to lead the troublemaker away when Cave said—

“Hold on. Bring her here.”

The mass of people parted to make way as the guards came through, and in a few seconds the booer was before him. It was a woman after all, and that surprised him—a tall, stately woman in a perfectly-pressed suit. She looked to be in her late thirties, maybe, but she wore a scarf over her hair and large sunglasses over her eyes, so he couldn’t see much of her face. Still, though, he felt as if he’d met her before.

“Do I know you?”

“No, sir. Not anymore.” She raised her voice so the crowd could hear. “I thought I knew you once, Mr. Johnson, but I see now that I was wrong. The man I knew would never give up his facility, not even if his life depended on it, _never_. He was passionate, and brilliant, and brave. He was a giant among men! Compared to him, you are a _worm_.”

“Hey, hey—”

“ _I will not be silenced_.” She cast a scornful arm at the audience and said, “These yes-men don’t give a damn about this company, as long as someone signs their checks. I am the only one here who cares enough to speak! And I say that you, Mr. Johnson, are a sellout, a selfish coward, and a fool!”

“ _Hey_ —”

She was shouting now. “Ask this man how he got to be so high and mighty in the first place! Ask him how he got the empire he’s throwing away! Did he do it alone? Someone gave her very life to get him here, and he betrayed her! He sold her sacrifice for a wad of cash!”

That stung hard. “I was _saving_ her—”

“You think you saved her life? You traded it for money and lies! _She would have died a thousand times for this place, and you were too weak to keep it alive!_ ” Her rage seemed to shake the very walls, and the big man trembled before her. “You spineless insect,” she hissed, full of scorn. “You think you’re still the man who built Aperture Science? You’re not even his shadow. You’re not a genius. You’re not a hero. You’re a sad little fraud in a cheap suit, and she would _weep_ to see you now.”

She took off her sunglasses and lifted her head and it was Caroline, his Caroline in the flesh, her brown eyes alight with fury. Cave woke in a cold sweat.

He lay in bed in the medical ward. He’d only been here four hours. The sale hadn’t happened yet—and if the lawyers went on lawyering and the doctors kept him here, it was still days away. For now, at least, he was still Cave Johnson, CEO.

But his nightmares had begun.

That night, after a dozen scans and tests and a couple of hours on some blood-filtering machine and an oxygen mask going on-and-off all day, he fell asleep and dreamed of a tropical beach. He stood on the shore in a three-piece suit, seawater lapping at his loafers, while other businessmen milled about on the sand, mingling and chatting and taking cocktails from a fleet of girls in bikinis. All the girls were gorgeous, and all the bikinis had Black Mesa logos on them—rather tacky, Cave thought, compared to Aperture’s very tasteful line of swimwear. He didn’t recognize any of the men, but some of them noticed him and waved him over.

“Hey, Cave-man! Look at this!”

The group stood clustered around a newspaper, he saw as he approached, reading over one another’s shoulders. Grinning, one of them said, “Looks like you’re back in the headlines!”

One look at the page and his stomach dropped through the floor:

_APERTURE FOLDS! It looks like the rumors are true: TF Industries’ buyout of Aperture Science earlier this year marked the end of this once-prestigious science company. After floundering financially in recent years, CEO Cave Johnson made the decision to sell the former science titan, seeing no hope that the company could pull itself out of this slump. TFi enacted radical restructuring after the sale, but it seems the measures weren’t enough to save this sinking ship. Today, TFi’s Administrator announced that Aperture Science will close its doors for good by the end of this year. “It’s simply not practical to keep in business,” she commented. “Science is all well and good, but TFi has broader interests.” Aperture’s scientific equipment and research will be repurposed through TFi’s long-standing subsidiary, Mann Co. (Motto: “We sell products and get in fights”), or sold to the company’s long-time rival, Black Mesa. With this overture of friendship, the Administrator hopes to put the feud to rest, saying, “Why not work with [Black Mesa]? They do better science anyway.” We wonder what Cave Johnson would have to say about that, but the former CEO was unavailable for comment…_

Cave felt sick. This was his fault, this was all his fault, he was selfish and irresponsible and he looked away from the paper to see some besuited schmuck pawing at a bikini-clad girl who looked far too familiar and he woke feeling nauseous.

The following night he didn’t sleep at all. He lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering where they’d taken Caroline…

 

*          *          *

 

She woke strapped to a slab. A low humming filled her body, accompanied by the strange sense that she was being invaded. It might have something to do with the thick cable winding across the floor, one end attached to a computer bank beside her, the other embedded in the back of her skull. Symbols scrawled across the system’s monitor. She was being scanned.

It was an unsettling feeling, but she didn’t move, nor did she make a sound. Better not to let whoever might be here know she was conscious. Instead she stayed as still as possible and tried to take in her surroundings.

The room was wide and blank. She saw only one door, made of metal and heavily bolted, and above the walls were lined with observation windows. Nothing moved in the annexes beyond. The place had the sterile concrete look of a lab, but she saw no equipment here, apart from the big computer—and looking closer, she saw that its boxy frame was set on casters. It had been moved here in a hurry, then. Probably just for her. How special.

This must be one of the lower levels, since she heard none of the hustle and bustle of the main facility. Only the soft rumble of the ventilation system, and the distant roaring of… was that a lion?

But then a sound much closer caught her attention, and she froze as the footsteps approached the table. Staring straight ahead, she could see little of her jailer, but she felt herself under scrutiny. Striking pale eyes swept the android up and down. They glanced from the captive to the monitor and back, evaluating in silence. A tiny crease appeared between their brows. One hand reached out, a pen in its fingers, and the woman tapped the robot’s skull.

It made a dull sound against the metal, but that was all. The android stayed carefully still. So she did it again— _tap_. Still nothing. The pale eyes narrowed just slightly. _Tap tap tap_. The android didn’t even twitch. Moving to the monitor, the woman typed a command on the keyboard below—Caroline couldn’t see what, with her body in the way—and hit _Enter_.

Pain flashed through her like lightning. The android’s eyes flew wide open as she yelped in startled agony, her body shuddering with involuntary convulsions—and then after barely a second it was over. She went still again, but she was conscious, and now her captor knew it.

The woman’s mouth twitched in a pleasureless smile. She ticked something on the clipboard tucked in her arm and went back to the monitor.

“Alright,” said Caroline. “You caught me.” No use playing dead anymore, so she might as well get some answers. “How long have I been out?”

The woman shrugged, not bothering to look at her,

“Why did they bring me here?”

“What are they planning to do with me?”

Caroline’s eye-shutters narrowed. “Do you speak at all?”

This time the woman glanced over her shoulder to give the robot a decidedly smug look before shrugging yet again.

“Fine, then. Don’t say anything. I’ll just lie here rusting until you’re finished with me.” Her captor turned back to the monitor, uncaring. But Caroline was still curious. “Why did you power me up, anyway?”

This time she did earn a response, of sorts. The woman moved enough to clear her view of the screen, and tipped her head, indicating the readout it displayed:

_Initial troubleshoot complete. No errors detected. System must be online for further diagnostics._

_To continue, activate system and press ENTER_

_To end test, press ESC_

_> ENTER_

_Troubleshoot in progress…_

Just a basic diagnostic scan, from the look of things. She’d expected something more sinister. Maybe they were hunting for bugs in her system—things to exploit. “Torture, is that it?” Yes, that must be it. “Do your worst.”

But her defiance fell on an empty room. The woman had stepped out of sight. When she reappeared a moment later, Caroline spotted a large toolbox in her arms.

“So you’re going to dismantle me!” She tried to raise her chin in defiance, but the straps on the slab held her down. “Go ahead, tear me to pieces. It won’t do you any good.”

Her jailer set down the toolbox somewhere out of sight—it made a loud _thunk_ on the floor—and knelt at the android’s side. She couldn’t see what was going on, but she felt something picking at her wrist. It picked, and it picked, for a good minute or so—and then there was emptiness where her left hand should be.

“Oh, you’ve maimed me. How horrible.”

Her voice was deadpan, but she had to push down a prickle of unease. If they really did dismantle her, how would she get out of here? She couldn’t very well save Aperture as a head on a shelf. But, shackled and helpless, there wasn’t much she could do but watch as her would-be torturer held up her neatly severed hand. She turned it over in her fingers, examining the jointed appendage, then reached down to the toolbox. Caroline braced for butchery. As the woman sat on the edge of the slab, she caught sight of the first instrument of destruction.

It was a rag.

Frowning in concentration, the woman began to clean the hand, wiping down the dingy metal and picking the dirt from between delicate joints. She wet the rag with some greenish fluid, and remnants of white paint started to peek out from under the layer of filth. Every crevice where grime might hide got rinsed out with a can of compressed air. It was a long process, but after a while the hand she held was still scratched and scuffed, but clean. Then she knelt again beside the robot, picked up the wrist where the hand had been attached, sprayed the empty socket with compressed air to remove the lingering dirt, and began that pick-pick-picking again—a tiny screwdriver finding where the limb fit into place. In another moment Caroline could feel her fingers again, as if they’d never been gone.

Finished, the woman rose and went to the computer bank, keying in a command. Electricity shot down Caroline’s arm. Her hand seized for a fraction of a second—but then the spasm passed, and the woman looked satisfied as she made another note on her clipboard.

Caroline didn’t know what to think of this. She flexed her hand to make sure it still worked, and in fact with all the muck cleaned out it felt better than new. The woman was back at her side, now polishing the plating of her forearm, and as Caroline watched her sense of unease grew. They couldn’t really be fixing her... could they? Had they told Mr. Johnson the truth after all? They hadn’t tried to harm her yet, but still...

As she settled in for her first ever deep-cleaning, she felt like a lamb being groomed for slaughter.

It would be a little while before she found out why, but she was right.

 

*          *          *

 

The first thing Craig felt as he regained consciousness was a thumb jammed hard into the button at the base of his skull. It woke him abruptly, but it took a long moment for his body to come back online. His limbs twitched sporadically, nerves fizzling with startup impulses, but soon he was able to sit up. “Ow,” he said.

Rick hauled him to his feet. “C’mon, pal, rise and shine.” Craig wobbled, but the pins-and-needles in his legs were starting to abate. He still didn’t look so good. Rick gave him a pat on the back and he almost toppled over. The other android laughed. “Boy, she gave you a wallopin’, huh?”

“I-I-I-I—” He stopped himself to start again. “I was… unprepared. The creature is dangerous.”

Rick was grinning like an idiot. “You’re tellin’ me! What a woman!”

“It was not a woman. It was—”

“What, a robot?” He cocked his head wryly. “I’m a robot too, but I’m still a man. And lemme tell you, Pinky, I _know_ when I meet a woman.”

He was still grinning, far too widely for comfort. Craig narrowed his eyes. “You are infatuated.”

“With a girl like that?” Rick laughed again. “You bet I am! Now get a move on, let’s go.” He patted Craig’s shoulder again and set off down the tunnel.

“Go?”

“Yeah, let’s get outta here. Vamoose. Scram.” Glancing back, he saw Craig wasn’t following. His smile faltered. “Your dictionary broken or somethin’?”

“The Fact Core has a mission to complete—”

“Aw, _c’mooon_ , Pinky—”

“—Even if the Adventure Core has malfunctioned and forgotten it.”

“—Screw the mission! Anybody asks, we dropped the Johnson guy down a pit. Who’s gonna know?”

Craig folded his arms, unmoving. “The Intelligence Core will insist that the mission be completed.”

Rick folded his arms right back at him. “I dunno if you noticed, but the Intelligence Core ain’t here. If you wanna go find him, go ahead. He sure never came to find me.” He shrugged, uncaring. “Prob’ly finished the dumb mission on his own and headed back without us.”

“That is conjecture.”

“Yeah? Well here's a fact: I’m not gonna wait around for him to find out. You can go harin’ after that peabrain if you want, or you can come with me and get outta this hole. Up to you, Pinky.”

Craig didn’t reply. The pause stretched between them, Rick staring at Craig in expectation, Craig staring stubbornly back. Rick was just about ready to give up and leave when Craig grumbled, “You are going to get us both killed.”

And then Rick’s grin came back in full force. “Wouldn’t be fun without a little danger.”

 

*          *          *

 

Caroline’s internal clock said it had been two days, but that was all she had to go on. The windowless lab gave her no indication of passing time but the comings and goings of her caretaker. She would enter periodically for more scans, more silent maintenance, and then turn the florescent overhead light off on her way out, leaving the robot in darkness. Luckily she was used to darkness.

But she was restless here. She was _bored_. And she was worried about Mr. Johnson—was he holding out, or had they already pushed him into the sale? If he signed those papers, they were done for. She had to get to him in time. Which meant she had to get out of this room...

The door swung open again, and she braced herself for still more prodding, but this time when the woman entered she wasn’t alone. Two men followed behind her. Both wore suits, but they had the harried look of underlings, not men in charge. As soon as they set eyes on the android, they bustled over to the slab for a good look. Caroline played dead.

The older man spoke first. “How is our patient, then?” he said, and before the woman could reply, he reached out and _rap-rap-rapp_ ed on the robot’s plating. “Cheery-looking thing, isn’t it?”

“Looks a little grim to me,” said the younger one.

“That was a joke, Mr. Bidwell.”

“Sorry, Mr. Reddy.”

Still saying nothing, the woman held out her clipboard for the men to examine. The older one, Mr. Reddy, took it and looked it over. “Hmm.” Mr. Reddy was a smart man, but he knew next to nothing about electronics. He passed the clipboard to his junior partner. “What do you think, Bidwell?”

Mr. Bidwell knew even less than Mr. Reddy. He looked at the first page and said, “Huh.” Then he looked at the woman. “Will it be ready by the time Mr. Hale wants it?” She nodded, and both men looked relieved.

“Good, good. Things are right on schedule.” Reddy was eyeing the computer bank, following the readout on the screen. “Mr. Hale will be pleased.”

“Not to mention the Administrator.”

“Mm-hm. And when the Administrator is pleased, the rest of us—well.”

“We get to sleep at night,” Bidwell said with a chuckle. Reddy shot him a warning look. “Th-that was a joke, Mr. Reddy.”

“I know it was, Mr. Bidwell.” Seemingly satisfied with the readout, Reddy came back to stand beside the younger man, whose eyes roved over the immobile chassis. “Has it moved at all?” Reddy asked the woman. “Showed any sign of awareness?” In response she gestured to the clipboard the men still held. Reddy skimmed it again, seeing only gibberish. “Ah. Of course.”

Bidwell was watching the thing like it might sit up at any moment. “So there’s really a human brain in there?”

“Ostensibly.” Reddy sounded disbelieving. “That is the whole point of the _experiment_ , after all.” He said _experiment_ as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“You’ve said you’re not fond of all this science business—”

“Oh no, I never said that, I quite approve.” Reddy’s tone had the hurriedness of someone who might be spied upon. “I simply miss business as usual, that’s all. I’ll be pleased when we’re back to guns and fights.”

Bidwell nodded. He wasn’t quite listening. He glanced up from the android to the woman, still a mute observer. “Does it understand us?”

Reddy answered him before she could. “Anyway, can’t dawdle here. Much to do. Come along, Bidwell.” Turning, he gave the woman a cursory nod. “Be sure it’s ready on time. Mr. Hale likes his toys in perfect condition before he breaks them.”

And with that the men were gone. The two women, flesh and machine, stared after them. Reddy’s last words lingered ominously in the air—but she was a robot, Caroline told herself. She felt no fear. She would prepare herself, and when they came for her, she would be ready.

It did take another day for her to be fully functional, and a day more before anyone but the silent woman checked on her again. She had plenty of time to muster her defenses.

They broke her anyway.


End file.
